Distance from Yesterday
by Fish
Summary: In an alternate reality, everything has gone wrong in Ash Ketchum’s life. Fate provides a way to change things, but will he and Gary survive to reap the benefits? Angst, dark, Pokeship, Rocketship, the works.


Once again, from the dark, shadowy realm of the mind of the Icthid of Destiny…   
  
Pokémon and all characters, concepts, ect. belong to Nintendo, 4Kids Entertainment, Warner Brothers, and   
Satoshi Tajiri. I am not profiting from the production of this fic in any way. The concept for this fic was   
originally the Total Anime Nut's, and I have to give thanks and snuggles where thanks and snuggles are   
due.   
  
This takes place in a completely different universe than the TV show, and it's important to keep that in   
mind when viewing the characters and canon. Some of them WILL be OOC for parts of this, some of them   
for the whole thing. The deal is, in this reality their lives have taken different courses, and their characters   
and personalities reflect these changes. Get it? Get it?   
  
Whilst being banged out in Microsoft Word, this story took on the name of "The Fic That's Trying To Kill   
Me Before I Finish Writing It." I have such fond memories of waking up with my face pressed into the   
keyboard and realizing I hadn't eaten in three days. But if you're reading this, I suppose that means it's   
finished. Which, in turn, means that I can now sleep, eat, and shower like a normal person would.   
  
Thanks be to Zif (aka Snuggle-Pookie-Rach-Rach-Doober), who suggested Weaselpockets (TM) and gave   
the penguin glasses. Without you LFA would have stopped after the third installment… I don't know if   
that's good or bad. All credit for beta reading goes to you, also, m'love, for reading this twelve times and   
coming back with more constructive criticism than gratuitous praise. That'll come later (wink wink nudge   
nudge). Also, merci beaucoups for putting up with me on those dark nights when I'd been writing for   
hours and snapped your neck if you mentioned this fic. I promise I won't kill A.J. off, okay?  
  
Well, not violently, at least.  
  
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Ash Ketchum had just celebrated his ninth birthday when the newspapers one morning ran frighteningly   
gruesome headlines. He read what he could of the article before his father took it away from him, saying it   
was too graphic for a young boy to read. Ash wasn't interested by the gore, as any normal ten-year-old   
would be. He was startled… disturbed by what he had gleaned from the article. He had never heard of a   
Pokémon turning on its master in such a way--in the middle of battle, just suddenly going berserk and   
breaking into the stands.  
  
Nine people were killed, four of them children.  
  
Almost a year later, three days before his tenth birthday, the papers ran headlines proclaiming a new set of   
laws concerning Pokémon ownership and training. This announcement was met with mixed emotions, to   
say the least. Although it was for the safety of the masses that training Pokémon for battle was made   
illegal, the masses were severely displeased. There were several riots in larger cities all over Kanto, and a   
quarter of Vermilion City was burnt nearly to the ground. But that is neither here nor there. The fact was   
that Ash Ketchum, with his dreams of Master balls and gym badges, of his name highlighted as Pokémon   
Master, was utterly crushed.  
  
For a while his parents couldn't convince him to leave his room. Behind the locked door, Ash looked   
around at the Pokéball bedspread, the mock battle arena with figurines of Pokémon poised to attack, at the   
hundreds of construction paper-and-crayon drawings of Pokémon he had made--he looked at the center of   
his world, and cried. A world without a sun to orbit around will never be anything more than a chunk of   
dead rock in empty space. Ash Ketchum was dead to the world.  
  
  
Ten Years Later…  
  
  
The rain pounded on the sheet metal roofing of the old warehouse. Water splashed in through the broken,   
boarded windows, and the wind tore at the loose siding, threatening to blow the old building away. The   
creatures inside the warehouse could not have cared less.  
  
On the dirty cement of the warehouse floor, a crude arena had been drawn. All along the perimeter of the   
rectangle people were standing, crowded together, with others watching over shoulders. Although palpable   
excitement and tension ran through the crowd, they were surprisingly quiet as they fastened their eyes on   
the action before them.  
  
In the trainer's boxes, two youths were shouting instructions to a Nidorina and an Ivysaur, battling for the   
right to fight Gary Oak, Master of the Pokémon Underground. Nidorina was losing badly, and the   
Ivysaur's cocky trainer was already planning his strategy to battle Oak.   
  
Gary himself sat off at a distance, leaning on the edge of a rusting counter. He spoke animatedly to a   
slouched form next to him. The figure said nothing in return, only picking at the leather of his half-gloves.   
  
"…a real prospect, and it's a lot more sturdy than this old place," Gary said. He shook his head. "Koa told   
me she could check it out for us, seeing as how there are two Officer Jennys outside our apartment…Ash?   
Hey, are you listening?"  
  
"Mmm?" the figure mumbled. He glanced up at his companion and sighed. "Sorry, Gary. I wasn't really   
paying attention."  
  
Gary shook his head. "Thinking about her again?"  
  
"What else?" At twenty, Ash Ketchum still looked very similar to his third-grade pictures. But now his   
eyes had been drained of the hope and excitement that had been there so long ago. Where they had gone,   
loneliness had pervaded. His dark denim jeans and black long-sleeved shirt matched the darkness in his   
features. A sorrowful, longing animal had replaced the soft, gentle boy he once had been.  
  
"You know what I though of her," Gary said gently. "You deserve more."  
  
"Yeah, I know. And I'm probably better off, right?"  
  
Gary nodded, nudging his friend over and pulling himself up onto the counter next to him.   
  
"Yeah, well maybe I don't want to be better off. I was perfectly happy being miserable with her."  
  
Gary snickered. "Yeah, sure you were, Ashy-boy. That's why you were sleeping on the couch instead of   
her bed, right?"  
  
Ash sighed again and changed the subject. "You said Koa was going to check that new warehouse?   
When's she going?"  
  
"Tomorrow night." The crowd across the room erupted in cheers.   
  
"Guess the battle's over," Ash said emptily, sliding down from his perch. "Come on, Master Oak, let's go   
see who your new challenger is."   
  
  
In a damp alley, the two boys leaned against a brick wall, watching a parked car across the street. Gary   
was crouched down, holding the collar of a particularly large Arcanine as Ash peered around the corner of   
the wall. He glanced at Gary nodded, and the boy released the Pokémon. It tore down the street, barking   
as loud as it could, and slammed itself into the passenger door of the stakeout car containing Officer Jenny,   
and her cousin from Fuchsia, Officer Jenny. The two officers shouted in surprise and drove off, the dog   
running close behind the car and growling menacingly.   
  
Meanwhile, Gary and Ash let themselves into their apartment building, attempting to appear innocent. The   
door clicked shut, and then opened again briefly to permit the Arcanine, panting from its assault on the   
police, into the hallway.  
  
The door to the boys' apartment was locked in four separate places, and it took Gary a moment to unlock   
them all. He yawned as he pushed through the door, not noticing his friend freeze at the doorframe. The   
light-haired boy glanced back, and noticed Ash staring incredulously across the room.   
  
"Jess," Ash breathed. "You came back." The boy rushed into the apartment and flung himself in the girl's   
arms, burying his face in her red hair. She hugged him tentatively, almost awkwardly. Mumbling soft   
words of apology, Jessie stroked his back, soothing him, attempting to drop her keys to the apartment on   
the end table without knocking him down.  
  
Gary grimaced. "Guess I'll leave you guys alone, then," he said, unnoticed, as he made his way into his   
room and quickly shut the door. He locked it behind him. Alone in the darkness of his room, Gary sank to   
the floor and rested his head in his hands, moaning softly.   
  
Ash was in love, this was obvious, Gary thought. He desperately wanted to be loved back. The boy was so   
empty, but nobody could blame him for feeling so. His mother had died when he was twelve; He and Gary   
had started training Pokémon for battle at night, out in the woods of Viridian forest. It was just the two   
children at the time, but their group soon grew. Meetings became a regular thing in the forest, and the   
children of Pallet formed their own underground, battling their Pokémon and conspiring of days when their   
obsession would no longer be condemned.   
  
After a year of these training battles, parents became suspicious. The police were told, and Ash and Gary   
were arrested as the ringleaders of a criminal band.   
  
Gary Oak's grandfather had paid Gary's bail, but Ash's father had disowned him and left him to serve his   
three months in juvenile detention.   
  
Gary had kept Ash's Pokémon for him. When Ash had finally returned home, he was a different person.   
He was dark and brooding, and spoke to no one save his closest friend. Gary had been Ash's only support,   
the sole person in the world who cared about this boy's fate. After a while the two had moved to   
Vermilion, to a cheap apartment in the south side of the city that had narrowly avoided the inferno the riots   
had set. The brick buildings in the neighborhood still bore gray smears of soot. Houses were permeated   
with the acrid stench of smoke, making the area affordable to the two young men on the monthly allowance   
that Gary's grandfather sent.  
  
Gary banged his head once into the door, damning fate for being so rough on his friend. He ran his hands   
through his sandy hair and sighed. He had hoped that Jessie was gone for good. Ash was so madly in love   
with her, and sometimes it seemed that she hardly even noticed his presence. Not that she was all bad—she   
was a great Pokémon trainer, and frequented the Underground's battle arena—but Gary felt it his duty to   
protect Ash. He supposed a part of his dislike for Jessie could be chalked off to jealousy. For so long it   
had been just the two of them, and he had become accustomed to being the only person in Ash's world.   
But it wasn't just selfishness that made Gary dislike Ash's girl. He had an objective view on the actions of   
the pair, their frequent arguments and Jessie's threats of leaving Ash as so many had done before. He did   
not like where their relationship was headed—namely, the potential for heartbreak on Ash's part.   
  
Gary said a silent prayer that she would be gone in the morning.   
  
  
Ash lay in bed awake as Jessie slept beside him. He stroked her hair, marveling at how such a beautiful   
creature could harbor feelings for him. He kissed the creamy skin of her collarbone, basking in the warmth   
of afterglow, loving the feel of his body pressed against hers. This was what life was for, he thought, for   
the tension and thrill of battle and the contrasting radiant gentleness of love.   
  
In his arms, Jessie shifted in her sleep. Ash tightened his grip around her, deciding that he would never let   
go. He wanted nothing more than this. Content, he drifted off to sleep.  
  
He woke up early the next morning, with the sudden realization that Jessie was no longer in bed. He   
dressed hurriedly, listening to the morning sounds on the street below. Stretching, he sauntered from his   
room into the small kitchen where Gary was glaring at Jessie over a cup of coffee. The look of uncertainty   
and concern had returned to the girl's delicate features. Smiling, Ash wrapped his arms around her from   
behind and whispered his good-mornings.   
  
Jessie shrugged out of his arms and rose from the chair. She spoke quietly in a decided tone. "Ash…" she   
began, looking into his dark brown eyes. "I have to go. I'm not coming back this time. I'm sorry, but I   
don't love you the way you love me. It would be wrong for me to stay here with you and continue this."   
Ash tried to speak, but she silenced him immediately. "No. No, you can't convince me to stay anymore   
than you could talk me in to loving you. Goodbye, Ash."   
  
Ash didn't move or speak as Jessie collected her things and made her way out. He stood staring blankly as   
the door shut behind her, as the door shut on his soul. Gary watched his friend intently, waiting for an   
invitation to talk, waiting for an opportunity to help.   
  
Ash said nothing but, "I'm going back to bed, then," and shuffled into his bedroom. Gary heard the dull   
metallic chink of the deadbolt being pushed into place as Ash locked himself in his room.   
  
  
  
  
James Kojiro, billionaire, read the paper in the sunroom, waiting for his wife to come down to breakfast.   
He smiled silently to himself as he read an article about an anonymous benefactor to the Pokémon Centers,   
donating almost a million dollars to the cause. He had always loved Pokémon, and was almost relieved   
when battling them was outlawed. He preferred to see Pokémon kept as pets, as he kept his Growlie.   
James dropped his hand to the dog's ear and scratched its fur lazily. It felt so good to do things for others,   
he mused. He tried to imagine all the children of the world with their healthy, bright-eyed Pokémon, happy   
and safe in the fact that they would have Pokémon companions for a long, long time thanks to James'   
generosity. Oh, it felt so *good* to do something right for once.   
  
He glanced up as Jessibelle glided into the room, fully dressed and made-up. She quietly extended her   
hand to her husband, leading him to the dining room for breakfast. The two sat in silence. James stared at   
his plate, lost in his thoughts.   
  
"James, dear," Jessibelle cooed, "Your omelet's getting cold."  
  
The man looked up, slightly startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, 'Belle. I was just thinking about something I read in   
the paper this morning."  
  
The stately woman nodded and sipped her tea, then said, "Is it not to your liking?"  
  
"Pardon me, dear?" James looked up at his wife.  
  
"Your omelet. Really, James, one gets the impression that you listen to not a word I say," she huffed. Ever   
the pacifist, James apologized and assured her that *everything* she said was interesting. Jessibelle eyed   
him coolly and finished her tea.  
  
After breakfast, James followed Jessibelle through the foyer and dining hall, listening to her go on about   
decorations for the autumn ball she was planning. He smiled and nodded, trying his hardest to remain   
interested in the party plans. He didn't want to upset her further. Jessibelle insisted that she was a delicate   
woman and, in order to remain healthy, had to be under no stress and be denied nothing. James was a   
complacent man, and tried his hardest to keep her happy.   
  
Smiling and nodding, he agreed to accompany her into Vermilion to look for proper bud vases for the   
event, calculating in his mind how he could worm perhaps another million from his bank funds to donate to   
the Pokémon Centers.   
  
  
James had never liked Helmbrook Department Store. The employees and customers held such an air of   
disdain around them that he never felt comfortable, even though he *was* James Kojiro, billionaire. He   
followed the chirruping Jessibelle mutely through the store as the woman made wild demands of what she   
required from the sales clerks. Jessibelle had been placated for now, and was examining several styles of   
vases. She called to him, "James, dear, come help me decide. Which vases will look proper with our   
china?" She held up two seemingly identical bud vases.   
  
James smiled and motioned to the left vase, to which Jessibelle exclaimed, "Oh, my poor, dear husband.   
You still have no sense of what is right and proper." She turned to the clerk attending her and asked for   
twenty of the vases, the one in her right hand.   
  
James had not noticed the clerk until then. When he saw her, he realized what all the clichéd authors meant   
when they mentioned beauty taking a man's breath away. As James' eyes fastened on the girl, he shivered   
unconsciously, a thrill of potential euphoria running through his veins, begging him not to look away.  
  
He vaguely noticed Jessibelle announcing that he would pay for the vases and meet her at Antony's, a   
fashionable bistro in the lobby of the department store. The woman strode off, her thoughts on the correct   
flowers to display in autumn.   
  
The clerk smiled at James and asked if the vases should be wrapped. His heart fluttered as he realized that   
she, this beautiful, perfect goddess, was talking to him. He blinked dazedly for a moment and nodded   
dumbly, praying that the girl would wrap them herself and prolong his time with her. To his utter delight,   
the girl set her nimble fingers to wrapping the boxes, deftly and neatly.   
  
By the time all of them had been wrapped, he had gained some of his composure back. The girl smiled at   
him again, setting his heart beating faster, and took his credit card from his sweaty hand. James swallowed.   
He managed to smile back without hurting himself. His eyes drifted from the girl's face, along her long,   
thin neck to her nametag.   
  
The goddess' name was Jessie.  
  
He swallowed again and said, weakly, "Jessie. What a pretty name."  
  
The girl looked up from the cash register. "Thank you," she smiled softly.   
  
James opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of something to say. "My… my name is James. How   
do you do?" A lame attempt, perhaps, but it was a start.  
  
The girl's smile widened. "Very well, thank you, sir." She continued ringing up the purchases as James   
caught a lingering scent of her perfume. Oh, god, he was melting.  
  
He managed to stumble through the rest of the purchase, asking to have the vases brought to his home. He   
started towards the lobby, but stopped. Trying to control himself, he forced his legs to carry him towards   
the lobby, but found that he could no longer restrain himself. He stopped again. He took a deep breath and   
returned to the counter where the girl was.  
  
"Excuse me, Jessie?" he said, shaking slightly. "I… I don't usually… I mean, I'm not one… What I'm   
trying to…" He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He opened and shut his mouth a few   
times, paused, and then spoke. "Is there any way I could have your phone number?"  
  
  
  
  
"No, no, no!" Gary shouted at the teenaged trainer. The boy had foolishly asked Gary to teach him battle   
technique, and he was paying for it with his dignity. "No… what the hell are you doing?" The kid   
stuttered a reply, but Gary wasn't listening. He had gone into full lecture mode. The kid was in for it.   
"Listen, you… Listen. You have six Pokémon on the team, right? And none of them are KO'd because the   
battle is just *starting*, right? So what the *hell* are you doing calling out a Poliwag against his Oddish?   
Isn't there a… a… a Ponyta, right? in that Pokéball *right there* on your belt?"  
  
The younger boy muttered his apologies and returned his Pokémon, almost in tears. Gary sighed. "Look,   
I'm sorry I yelled, kid, but… try to make wiser decisions in the future, okay?" The boy nodded and   
sniffled, returning to his battle. Gary decided to get away before this became frighteningly mushy.   
  
He made his way through the old warehouse towards the room he and Ash kept as an office. He opened the   
door, fully expecting to see Ash sprawled, crying, on the floor, like he had left him. But the boy wasn't in   
the office. He checked the loft, a section of catwalk hidden from view that provided an excellent vantage   
point for battle observation. Not there either. It didn't appear that he was even in the building. Gary   
gritted his teeth, hoping Ash wasn't going to do something stupid—like beg for Jessie to come back.  
  
  
"Vulpix, vul!" Ash smiled as he watched his Vulpix—the only Pokémon he really kept anymore—  
bounding through the grass. He hadn't battled any of his Pokémon since his Pikachu had been put to sleep   
after he was sent to juvenile detention at age twelve. He'd loved that damned rat. Lethal weapon, my ass,   
he thought. They were afraid. Afraid of the fact that Pikachu was different.  
  
He'd given the rest of his Pokémon away, finding promising young trainers to raise them. It hurt to battle   
now. He was constantly afraid of losing another pet, another friend.  
  
The little fire-fox returned and trotted by her master's side. Ash tried to think on something else besides   
heartbreak. No thinking about Pikachu, he told himself, And no thinking about Jess. He turned his   
thoughts to the changing leaves making their canopy above him, waving listlessly in the breeze. He was   
glad that the warehouse was out of the city, it gave him a chance to get back into nature. He'd always   
loved the smell of ozone on the air after rain, the soft rustle of grass as one moved through a field.   
  
Finding a large tree trunk to lean against, Ash sat and gathered Vulpix into his lap, lazily running his   
fingers through her coat. She was a beautiful little animal, of well-established bloodlines. Gary had gotten   
her for him after a particularly nasty spell during which Ash had seemed to lose all interest in Pokémon and   
battles, in pursuit of sulking in the apartment thinking about Jessie.   
  
Jessie… she was gone now, apparently for good this time. Her words had stung him, he still ached from   
the bite of it. She didn't love him. He wouldn't hold it against her. It was his fault, he was sure. He   
couldn't blame her for not loving him. He didn't love himself, either. He must have done something   
terribly wrong somewhere, he thought, to have brought this upon himself.  
  
He missed the thrill of battle. He missed adrenaline of the heat of a good match, he missed the intensity of   
emotion, the anticipation as the dust settled around a KO'd Pokémon and the victor of the match, the insane   
joy of winning. His name could have been famous. He could have been highlighted as one of the greatest   
Pokémon trainers of all time, he knew it, if only fate hadn't been so cruel.   
  
Even the remembrance of battles past made his blood course faster. It was a sort of high, he thought. A   
drug to stimulate every emotion a human was capable of feeling. But at the same time, the pain he felt   
going into battle was very real, and very harsh. It was because of Pokémon battles that he had lost Pikachu.   
He didn't know if he wanted to return to the arena, didn't know if he could stand the ache in his soul.   
  
If only things had been different, he thought. He imagined himself in a reality where every child still   
dreamed of being a Pokémon Master, where he, as a child, and his Pokémon could have set forward on   
adventures in the sunshine. A world where everything hadn't been taken from him.   
  
He sighed and pulled himself to his feet. Gary's battle was in half an hour. He should be there. Not that   
Gary could ever lose—there were decent trainers in the Underground, but all the true Masters were gone.   
Gary held his title of Underground Master with very little contest.  
  
The arena was being cleared as Ash walked in through the scritchy, rusted back door of the warehouse. He   
found Gary in the office, warming up his Jolteon for the battle. "Hey," he mumbled as he flopped onto a   
shabby couch along the wall.   
  
"Hey," Gary said. "Where'd you go?"  
  
"I took Vulpix out for a walk. You think you're gonna be able to handle this challenger?"  
  
Gary nodded, recalling Jolteon and sitting down next to Ash. "'Course I can. I *am* the Pokémon Master,   
aren't I?" He grinned moronically.  
  
Ash laughed quietly at the old phrase. He remembered when he and Gary used to fight about who would   
be Pokémon Master when they grew up. They were silly, childish little squabbles, like all children had, but   
somehow they both knew they were different. Talented. Ash and Pikachu had been unstoppable in the   
Viridian Forest, before Ash's life had gone to pot. Even Gary couldn't beat that pair. They were bonded   
somehow, they were destined. But that was then.  
  
Gary continued. "The girl… Misty, her name is, I think… she's a great trainer, but she puts too much faith   
in water-type. She knows that not having type-different Pokémon on her team really sets her back, but   
she's stubborn, I guess." He stretched lazily.  
  
Ash nodded. He knew the girl, Misty, in passing. She was a lovely little thing, about two years older than   
he was, with long legs and insanely orange hair. He'd never really spoken to her, being too wrapped up in   
his own pitiful life. The more he thought about it, though, he realized that he barely knew *any* of the   
trainers in their group. He told himself he would work on that, try to get out more, to become part of the   
group.   
  
  
The battle was short, but entertaining. Misty's team was entirely water-type, save for a Clefairy. Her   
technique was excellent, and it would have been a fair fight if she'd had more than water-Pokémon. Ash   
watched from behind Gary's trainer's box with mild interest. Thoughts of maybe starting battling again   
crossed his mind. He could find some good grass and normal Pokémon in the woods around here. Maybe   
he'd even get another Pikachu.   
  
He may as well piece together a decent team, the thought. It didn't mean he had to battle. He should at   
least train Vulpix, she was athletic and willing to learn. Maybe, he thought. Maybe.  
  
  
  
  
"I don't care what your excuse is, I want that Aerodactyl. For Christ's sake, Butch, it's not that tough of an   
assignment… It's not plotting against you, it's a dumb bird! Get a net! Get a… well, then try a *different*   
net. I don't want to listen to you whine. I'm telling you for the last time, you'd better get me that bird."   
Giovanni slammed the phone back in its cradle, making the slight girl across from him jump. His snarl   
turned into a leer as he leaned back in the plush leather chair, rubbing his hands together.   
  
The girl didn't like seeing the Boss like this. When someone upset him, he had a tendency to take it out on   
whoever was available at the time. She sunk deeper into the chair, chewing on her bottom lip.   
  
The chair squeaked as Giovanni suddenly sat forward, his palms flat on the desk. The small figure recoiled   
from the closeness of his face, his breath reeking of tobacco and brandy. The man grinned. "So, I hear   
you've made it into that little Pokémon playground, hmm? Tell me, Misty, are you *enjoying* your little   
assignment?"  
  
Misty nodded mutely.  
  
Giovanni's face contorted as he roared in anger. He slammed his fist onto his desk. "Why the hell haven't   
you filed any reports? I need to know what's going on there, and I need to know NOW!"  
  
Misty flinched. "I'm sorry, Boss, but I've been… busy…trying to… stay inconspicuous. I really think this   
whole Underground thing is harmless. They're not planning anything. That Ash kid doesn't even train   
Pokémon anymore, he just mopes."  
  
Giovanni frowned. He didn't like excuses that were valid, they made him seem weak. He changed his tone   
again, and said, sweetly, "Why don't you get close to him? See if you can get anything out of him?" the   
man smirked as he looked the woman's body over. "I'm sure you could do a really great job of taking his   
mind off of whatever's got him down."  
  
Although appalled, Misty nodded. She could not wait to escape that room, with its creaking leather chairs   
and thick cloud of smoke. "Fine," she said. "I'll do it."  
  
  
Misty shuddered and felt Giovanni's eyes on her as she left his office. He was a cold, vicious man with   
sharp little black eyes and a hateful soul. She made her way to the parking garage, fumbling with her keys.   
She didn't particularly like Team Rocket, either, but she made due. It was a job. It paid. It was better than   
her other options.   
  
She got in her old Buick and locked the door behind her. TR headquarters were in the seedy part of town,   
and one never knew when one would be in danger.   
  
She hated her life, she decided. She hated everything about it. She hated Giovanni, hated the Team, hated   
this damn land-boat of a Buick, hated her shabby little apartment, hated the irrepressible Gary Oak, hated   
that Ash Ketchum with his sad eyes. She briefly wished she was back home, but changed her mind   
quickly. She had said she wouldn't go home until she'd done something with her life.   
  
She was screwed, is what.   
  
The thing she hated most, though, was this assignment. She hated the fact that she was beginning to enjoy   
the people in the Underground, beginning to trust and even like them. She growled in frustration and   
banged her fist on the steering wheel.  
  
She could *not* get attached. She was supposed to be bringing about the downfall of the Underground, but   
for some reason she thought she would prefer to be on the losing side of this battle. She felt *right* there,   
like she was doing something without screwing up for a change. And she was good at it, too. She held   
back in the battles, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself. She chose a team of all-water   
Pokémon to keep herself from winning too often, adding her pet Clefable on a whim.   
  
Misty gritted her teeth. The decision between Team Rocket and the Underground could wait. She could   
keep putting off filing reports, and keep making excuses to Giovanni. She could try, at least.  
  
  
  
  
Jessie was surprised, to say the least, that someone could be so forward. She had stared at the man in   
disbelief as his emerald green eyes silently pleaded with her to accept him, to take him seriously. His   
asking for her number stunned her, and she surprised herself by giving it to him willingly. What left her   
even more stunned when he called her that evening and suggested they meet. His tone was hopeful, unlike   
the leering, suggestive tone of the many other men that hit on her at the store. She reluctantly agreed to   
join him for dinner the next night.  
  
Ever since then, she'd been panicking.  
  
Was this a joke? She may have been wrong, but she was pretty sure that James was with that loudmouthed,   
obnoxious lady. She could have sworn that he'd been wearing a wedding ring, too. A new thought popped   
into her mind: What if he was married? Was she on the verge of a date with a married man?   
  
What about Ash? What would he think if he knew that the day after breaking up with him—this time for   
good, she stated firmly to herself—that she was going out to see a different man?   
  
Ash was a nice enough person, and he'd never been anything but kind and gentle to her, but… she just felt   
it wasn't right. Though it pained her to do it, she'd managed to summon enough willpower to tell him, to   
break his heart. He was so attached to her, he loved her so deeply, but she felt a sort of objectivity in his   
love. He needed to love something and she was the most readily available person. It was a wonder that he   
hadn't fallen in love with Gary, she thought. Sometimes she though that he *had* fallen in love with Gary,   
and was just staying with her so he had cause to keep denying it.  
  
Ash Ketchum was a desperate lost soul. He'd had enough troubles in his life, she knew, but she couldn't   
go on living with him out of pity. Pity is not love. She couldn't lie to herself, and it was unfair to lie to   
him, too, she justified.  
  
And now, this. What was his…? James, right. He was a nice-looking gentleman, probably about her age,   
maybe a bit older. She hoped she wasn't doing something incredibly dumb.  
  
  
James felt dirty, lying like he had. The guilt made him rethink this little plan, enough so he almost turned   
and walked back into the house. He was comfortable enough in that big mansion with Jessibelle. Sure, she   
was pushy sometimes, but… well, she was his wife. It was his job to tolerate her. He turned the key in the   
ignition of the sporty little black BMW coupe 'Belle had given him for Christmas.   
  
He was comfortable with Jessibelle. Comfortable, yes. That's not the point, he thought to himself. Do I   
love her? Should I even ask myself that?   
  
Five miles later he came to the conclusion that 'Belle was his wife, and it didn't really matter if he loved   
her or not, because she was his *wife.* He turned the car around.   
  
Then he realized what he had just said. He turned the car again, and headed towards Vermilion City.   
  
No, he did not love Jessibelle. He never had. His parents had arranged the marriage, and he had been a   
peaceful child. He had gone along with it, just to placate his parents. He'd thought of running away—he'd   
heard of a group, Team Rocket or some such, that would take in runaways. But he had always changed his   
mind at the last minute, deciding that he was comfortable enough.   
  
"Not this time," he muttered as he gunned the engine.   
  
  
James entered the restaurant with some hesitancy. Would meeting this girl be cheating on 'Belle? Could   
he live with himself afterwards? It's just dinner, he told himself. It's not like I'm sleeping with her. His   
blood ran hotter at the sudden realization that maybe he *could* sleep with her. It definitely wasn't   
something he would bring up himself, and he doubted if it would ever go that far, but…  
  
Amazing, he thought, that a creature like her could condescend to mingle with a commoner like me.  
  
He had a brief flash of panic as he suddenly thought she wouldn't show. He was desperately afraid she   
wouldn't be there, but at the same time frightened that she *would.*  
  
His fears were unfounded. She was already seated, studying the tablecloth intently as he approached. He   
felt a rush of warmth as the knot in his stomach instantly untangled.   
  
Jessie rose from her chair uncertainly, not sure of what to do. James immediately crossed to her and took   
her hands in his own. "You came," he smiled, enraptured.  
  
Jessie swallowed nervously. "Yeah… I'm here." She giggled nervously. She felt the cool metal of James'   
wedding band on his left ring finger as he guided her back to her seat and pushed her chair in for her.  
  
"Um, James," she began, "I… Well, I couldn't help noticing… that you… well, that girl you were with,   
and… the ring on… I mean, I…"  
  
He nodded slowly. "Yes. Jessibelle and I were betrothed at age eight. I had no choice in the matter." He   
laughed bitterly. "They even went through and edited my wedding vows. But, yes, I'm married."  
  
"Then… you shouldn't be here. Really."  
  
"Do you want me to leave?" His felt his pulse increase again as he waited for her response.  
  
Jessie thought his question over thoroughly. He was charming, in a boyish way, and good-looking. She   
liked the way his eyes never left hers. So many men had tried to use her for her body, but it seemed as if   
James hadn't noticed that there was anything to her but her eyes. She'd known him for a drastically short   
time, but he seemed more gentle and considerate than any man she could think of. She asked herself what   
she was getting into, and decided she didn't care.   
  
"No," she said after a pause.   
  
James tookher hand across the table. "Then I think that things will fall into place themselves. Let's just   
enjoy it."   
  
  
James floated the entire way home. The evening had gone better than he could have hoped for. She liked   
him, she would tolerate his presence further! The goddess had not rejected him, the lowly amoebae he was.   
And when they parted company, her lips had brushed his cheek. She had kissed him! His skin tingled   
where her lips had touched. It was enough to fuel his dreams for months.   
  
Their conversation had been animated and pleasant. Jessie spoke of her mother, her childhood growing up   
in the mountains. They talked about their Pokémon, their beloved pets. They talked about politics and   
wine and anything that came to mind. The entire evening had been perfect.  
  
She was beautiful. More beautiful than anything he'd ever seen. Her eyes were blue and sparkled in the   
candlelight, her hair was a brilliant red. She'd pinned it up for dinner, and here and there an odd strand had   
escaped, framing her delicate cheekbones and elegant neck. She had taken his breath away when he first   
met her, and he felt unable to breathe whenever he was around her, drowning in his euphoria of just being   
near her. And to think that maybe she harbored feelings even slightly akin to his own!  
  
By the end of the night, James Kojiro, billionaire, was desperately in love with a girl he barely knew.  
  
My god, did it feel good.   
  
  
  
  
Ash still had tapes of Pokémon battles from when he was seven. He'd found them under his bed earlier in   
the evening, and had been watching them with rapt attention ever since. He'd forgotten how beautiful a   
truly well-trained Pokémon could be in action. He watched as an Articuno faced off with a Dragonite. It   
was a pretty fair match, but Ash already knew the outcome. He'd watched these tapes daily as a child, his   
eyes wide, consuming every scrap of information he possibly could.   
  
The Articuno would go down after the sixth move, to a Dragon Rage that the exhausted Dragonite could   
hardly execute. Ash scratched Vulpix's ear, imagining her in the arena. The little fox looked up at him   
with her warm, black eyes and purred.  
  
"I don't know if I can do it, girl," he said quietly.  
  
"Do what?" Gary asked softly, moving from the doorframe where he had been observing his friend. Ash   
jumped a little at the unexpected sound of the boy's voice. Gary moved over to the couch to sit next to Ash   
and reached out to pet Vulpix.   
  
"I'm thinking of training her," Ash said as he looked down at the fox's brilliant red coat. "She's smart and   
fast, she'd learn quickly."  
  
Gary nodded, a slight smile edging into his features. "Yeah, she would."  
  
"And she's very obedient."  
  
"Mmm-hmm."  
  
"I could build a fairly decent team around her, don't you think?" Ash said, his voice cracking.  
  
"Ash, you could build a 'fairly decent' team around a Caterpie," Gary said. Ash sniffled faintly.  
  
"I'm going to go to bed," the dark-haired bishonen said, his voice rough with suppressed tears. He knew it   
was stupid, but somehow the thought of continuing battle defiled the honor of that little yellow rat he had   
loved so intensely. He rose to his feet and started towards his bedroom, pausing halfway. "Gary?"  
  
"Yeah, Ash?"  
  
"Thanks a lot. For putting up with my shit. I have a lot of baggage that I shouldn't force you to deal with,   
but somehow you get sucked into it."  
  
"I like your baggage, Ashy-boy. It goes well with mine. Don't ever think of changing that."  
  
"Yeah. I won't."  
  
Gary sighed with relief as Ash's bedroom door closed. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he rested   
his head on the back of the couch. His throat ached with repressed sobs, with the overflow of relief and joy   
at the thought of Ash finally beginning to heal.   
  
The thought crossed his mind for a moment that it probably wasn't normal for a man to feel so passionately   
about his best friend's soul. Male friends were supposed to sit around, watch Pokémon battles and football,   
and belch. But the bond he shared with Ash was closer to that of a brother.   
  
He realized he didn't care, really. People could think what they liked. He took a deep, shuddering breath,   
and squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe things would be better in the morning.   
  
  
  
  
  
Jessie had not slept at all after meeting James. He had been perfect. The perfect man for her. She had   
repressed the thought of his wife during their dinner, allowing herself to get carried away in the   
conversation. The entire evening had gone beautifully, like something out of a romance novel.  
  
But there's always a catch, she thought. Life can never go that smoothly. Of course he would be married,   
something had to get in the way…  
  
She sank into a chair next to her bed and buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't she have just fallen in   
love with Ash? He was so devoted to her, so kind. But no, she had to go and find a married man. A   
charming, gentle, interesting, intelligent, handsome *married* man.   
  
She couldn't forget his eyes. She tried thinking about other things, about balancing her checkbook that was   
lying open on the counter in her kitchen, about feeding her pet Meowth and team of battle-trained   
Pokémon, about anything but his eyes.  
  
They were so deep. She got lost in them, even in memory. They made her forget that a relationship   
between her and this man would never happen.   
  
Over dinner, James had spoken of his wife openly. He told her right away that he would not lie to her. He   
was married, but his marriage to Jessibelle had never been more than a signature on a legal document. His   
parents had been pleased at their son's willingness to heed their wishes. They had died happy, while their   
only child lived numbly.  
  
"When I saw you," he had said, "It was just… right. Ever since then I've been realizing just how fake and   
unreal everything else in my life is. I don't want that anymore. Maybe it's not wise, but…this… seems to   
me to be the right thing to do." She had nodded dumbly, unsure of how to react. This was a married man,   
a married man who wanted to have a relationship with her. Part of her—most of her—wanted to pursue   
this, him… but a small voice in the back of her mind nagged at her and kept directing her eyes to the band   
on his left ring finger.  
  
She'd asked him what his last name was, since he hadn't told her previously. He blushed as he told her   
who he was, embarrassed by the fact that people in his position scorned hard-working people, people who   
lived normal lives within their small means. Jessie's eyes had widened. She was stunned for a second as   
she recognized the name.  
  
He had quickly assured her that he didn't care about the money, he'd never really spent much anyway.   
She'd made the point that he'd never cared about the money, but what would he do if it suddenly were   
gone. He'd brushed off that comment, turning to a new subject. They had parted in good company, if not   
more.  
  
She wanted to see him again. He assured her that she would. She had kissed him lightly on the cheek and   
gotten in a cab. Now she sat in a chair crying softly to herself, with no clue of what to do next.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ash waded through the grass again, drinking in the sunlight and birdsong of early morning. Vulpix trotted   
neatly beside him, her coat glimmering with trapped droplets of dew. He briefly flashed back to the days   
outside Pallet Town, when he and Pikachu would wander the fields in search of a Pokémon worth their   
time in battle. Now he was out with a new Pokémon, a very low-level and untrained Pokémon he had a   
sentimental attachment to, trying to prepare her for the life of a fighting animal. She was so peaceful, he   
thought. How am I ever going to get her to fight? More importantly, would he make her do it if she didn't   
seem to take to it?  
  
He jumped as a Pidgey flushed up in front of him. The angry, startled bird flew for Ash's head, and the   
boy ducked just in time.   
  
"Now's as good a time as any," he muttered. "You think you can take this canary, Vulpix?"  
  
"Vul!"  
  
"Ember attack!"   
  
  
The Pokémon Center was quiet. A few travelling teenagers had stayed the night there with their Pokémon,   
but they had come in late and Joy didn't expect them up for a while. She looked up as the door whirred   
open and smiled at the olive-skinned man who entered. He grinned back and set a donut box on the   
counter, leaning against it and sighing happily. "Good morning, Sunshine," he sang as he grinned even   
wider. "How was the night shift?"  
  
Joy gave him a weak smile that quickly turned into a yawn. The man hopped over the counter and took her   
in his arms. "You can't be too tired," he said, pulling her against himself roughly. "I have to take you   
home and…"  
  
"Brock!" Joy giggled. "I'm at work! You have to behave. For now, at least." The girl gave him an   
innocent smile and kissed the end of his nose playfully. He shivered and pressed her into the counter, but   
the girl ducked out of his embrace and turned to point an accusing finger at him. "You, young man, must   
learn how to conduct yourself in public," she reprimanded firmly, trying to repress her laughter.  
  
"I do behave myself in public. Just not when you're around," he grinned. He started towards her again,   
fully planning on sweeping her off her feet and finding an unused closet somewhere, when the door   
whirred open again.  
  
Joy watched as the vaguely familiar young man ran across the lobby towards her. He carried a small red   
form in his hands and was panting heavily. There was a wild fear in his eyes as he skidded to a stop in   
front of the counter. "Nurse Joy," he panted, "I need… help… it's…my Vulpix." He placed the little   
animal gently on the counter and tried to regain his breath.   
  
"What happened here?" Joy asked as she stroked the coat of the fox and checked it over. It had several   
severe lacerations and contusions along its rib cage, as well as a gash over its eye that was bleeding   
profusely.   
  
"She…she was attacked. A Pidgey attacked us…me, and she tried to stop it." The boy's eyes pleaded for   
her to accept his story.  
  
Joy recognized him now. She recalled dozens of incidents when he and his friend, a taller, light-haired   
boy, would show up late at night with wounded and exhausted Pokémon. She sighed. She had heard of the   
Underground, and didn't like the idea of anyone breaking the law or potentially harming themselves, their   
Pokémon, or others, but she had taken a vow to help those in need. She nodded faintly and gathered the   
Vulpix into her arms, pushing through the doors into surgery.   
  
Brock watched the boy as he began to breathe normally. The boy shifted onto his heels and watched the   
doors swing shut. He bit his lip and shuffled uncomfortably to a chair to wait for his Pokémon. Brock   
eyed him suspiciously, wondering why Joy wouldn't inquire further into the boy's claim.   
  
The tanned man sighed as he sat down behind the counter and leaned back in the chair, damning his luck.   
And *just* when I was gonna get some, he thought.   
  
  
Ash sat in his chair staring at his folded hands. The fight had been gruesome. The Pidgey had been too   
high a level, the poor girl hadn't had a chance. It was his fault. He should never have even thought of   
fighting his Vulpix. She was such a complacent, easygoing little animal, not suited for anything but Poké-  
shows and house life. He'd entertained thoughts of entering her in the upcoming show—the largest in   
Kanto—but hadn't been able to summon enough enthusiasm to actually fill out the forms.   
  
As smart as she was, she'd lost very sorely to the Pidgey. He kicked himself mentally, disgusted with his   
stupidity. And now… what if she didn't make it? He didn't know if he could handle losing another   
Pokémon like this, to one of his own dumb mistakes. Pikachu died because he trusted too many people.   
Now Vulpix might die because of his own cocky self-confidence.   
  
He breathed deeply as he pulled out his cell phone and plugged in the number for the apartment. The   
answering machine picked up after the fourth ring, so he tried Gary's cell.   
  
"Gary Oak."  
  
"Gary, I'm at the Pokémon Center on Ninth Street."  
  
"…oh, Ash. She didn't…" He sounded worried.  
  
"Yeah… I…" he fought back tears and swallowed hard, hoping he didn't sound too weak. "She's hurt bad,   
Gary. I don't know if she's gonna make it."  
  
Ash heard Gary swear quietly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said.  
  
"'Kay." Ash clicked his cell phone off and noticed the blood on his hands. How ironic, he thought. Makes   
me feel that much better about the situation.   
  
He rose and stalked towards the bathroom, still biting back the sobs that were aching in his chest.   
  
  
Ash sat on a padded bench with his legs pulled up to his chest, his head resting on his knees. Gary had his   
arm around his friend's shoulder and occasionally put in an encouraging remark, trying to keep Ash from   
losing hope completely. They had been sitting like this for more than an hour, waiting for some news of   
Vulpix's health.  
  
Gary startled at a sudden movement from Ash—the boy began banging his head against his knees. Gary   
gritted his teeth and turned towards him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing Ash to look into his eyes.   
"Ash, you have to stop beating yourself up about this. You didn't know that this would happen, you…"  
  
"It's my fault this time, Gary. I can't blame it on anyone else but me," Ash said with sudden forcefulness.   
"You can't convince me that I didn't do anything wrong. This is my *fault!* If she dies, it's on my   
hands."  
  
Gary opened his mouth to speak, but found no words to fight the tortured boy's condemnation of himself.   
He pulled Ash towards him and embraced him, trying to will his own strength into Ash. The dark-eyed boy   
wilted in Gary's arms, his composure dissolving. He was shaking. A wave of sympathy flooded through   
him as he watched Ash's numbness fade and the hurt surface.   
  
"Excuse me," interrupted a quiet, female voice. Ash sprung to his feet, breathing heavily.   
  
"Is she okay? Is my Vulpix alright?" he asked, his voice betraying his anticipation. He sounded like a   
child, impatient and imagining the worst.  
  
"Yes," Joy said. "She is alive." The nurse watched as relief flooded into the boy. He collapsed back onto   
the bench and leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. "She's alive, but she's not at all well. I'll have to   
keep her here for a few days to make sure the lacerations heal properly and don't become infected."  
  
Ash nodded, exhausted, but Joy continued. "I don't know exactly how your Pokémon came to be hurt so   
severely," she said, looking evenly and meaningfully in Ash's eyes, "But I *do* know that you should   
never allow her in that situation again. She's not built for…" she trailed off, knowing the boys understood   
her meaning.   
  
Gary stood up and took her hand. "Thank you, Nurse Joy. I'll leave our number with you in case anything   
comes up. I think I should get him home," he motioned to his companion. "You won't… you're…"  
  
"I know nothing," she said firmly. "That Vulpix was attacked by a wild Pidgey."   
  
"Thanks." Gary watched Joy walk into the back, followed closely by the man who had been sitting behind   
the counter reading magazines for the past hour. Once the doors to the surgery closed, Gary heard low   
voices and Joy's giggles. He smirked and turned to Ash, who hadn't moved since he sat back down.   
"Well, Ashy-boy, let's go get something to eat. I think we should leave those two alone."  
  
  
Ash slept the rest of the day. The Underground would meet late that night, and he was exhausted   
emotionally and physically from his afternoon. His rest was frequented by strange, shallow dreams,   
frightening visions of death and grief. As his sleep deepened, so did his dreams. He suddenly felt   
completely focused in on one particular dream, the watery, diffuse visions turning black suddenly, as if the   
lights had suddenly gone down in a theater. His mind faded in to Viridian Forest and the clearing where he   
and Gary had staged their battles as children. It was night. He watched himself wander into the clearing,   
kicking at the loose stones in his path. He situated himself on a fallen log and waited.  
  
After some time, he heard rustling in the bushes nearby. "Pikachu?" he heard himself say. "Is that you?"  
  
"Pikapi! Chu!" he heard the Pokémon exclaim. He got up and walked towards its voice.   
  
"Pikachu, where are you? Come out!" He heard the rustling ahead of him and ran towards the sound.   
"Come back!"  
  
"…Pika!" The voice was farther off now, and Ash ran faster to catch up. It was no use, though, as he   
heard Pikachu's calls fade off into the distance. He slowed to a trot and stopped, bending over to regain his   
breath.  
  
"You can't catch him, Pikapi." Ash jumped, startled by the smooth voice. There was nobody near him in   
the clearing. He looked around frantically, catching the flash of a red foxtail in top of his vision. He   
followed the tail up.   
  
His Vulpix was looking at him, perched in a tree. She spoke again. "You can't catch him. He's gone."  
  
"I… but if I look for him… maybe he's not really so far away," Ash said, shifting from one leg to the next,   
wanting to continue his quest after his Pokémon. He was slightly disturbed by his Vulpix using Pikachu   
dialect—"Pikapi" is the name that Pikachus use for their masters, meaning, roughly, "friend"—but   
somehow his understanding its speaking seemed relatively normal.  
  
"Pikapi, it's no use. He's much faster than you are." Vulpix's tail swished patiently.  
  
"Why is he running?" Ash asked quietly, looking in the direction Pikachu's voice had disappeared in.  
  
"He is very quick. I doubt you could even find him in these woods. You would have never gotten *this*   
far if he hadn't drawn you," Vulpix continued, ignoring Ash's question.  
  
"Gotten where?" he asked, confused. The location snapped suddenly into a well-lit Pokémon Center.   
Children were sitting in the lobby, holding their Pokémon on their laps, swinging their feet and cooing to   
their pets. As Ash looked around, he recognized many faces from the Underground, although he couldn't   
place any names. He stumbled dazedly to the counter to ask Nurse Joy for an explanation, but to his   
surprise there was no standard Nurse Joy.  
  
The girl, Misty, who had challenged Gary several days before, was in Joy's place, wearing the nurse's   
uniform. Ash stuttered an awkward greeting, intending to ask about Joy's location.  
  
Misty stared at him coldly. "I can't help you," she growled, her teeth suddenly becoming fangs, her eyes   
going red. She hissed at him as he backed away, tripping over chairs and benches.   
  
He fell, and felt the ground begin to rumble. The floor split into chunks, swallowing children and   
Underground members, and Ash watched in horror as the chasm became progressively wider, breaking the   
floor beneath him and swallowing him whole.  
  
Ash awoke with a yelp, sitting straight up in bed. His sheets were damp with his sweat and his heart was   
racing. He took a deep, ragged breath and pulled himself from the bed towards the shower, hoping the hot   
water would wash away the dream.  
  
  
Misty sat on an upturned bucket in the warehouse talking to some of the younger, teenaged trainers of the   
Underground. The majority of the youths involved with the Underground were teenagers set on rebellion   
and upsetting their parents, but there were a few real gems among them. One of them, Koa, a pretty girl of   
fifteen, interested Misty in particular. She was headstrong and stubborn, intently focused on her goals and   
very set on what she planned to do with her life. Koa wanted to go into politics, to make a difference, and   
lobby for the legalization of battle-trained Pokémon. It was a long shot, Misty thought, but if anyone could   
do it, Koa could. She was persuasive to a fault, and had immense faith in herself. Misty sighed. At fifteen,   
that girl had it all figured out, and she herself couldn't figure out… well, anything.  
  
There was a lull in the crowd of people gathered as the main door to the warehouse opened. Gary and Ash   
were almost always the final members to arrive at Underground sessions. Gary had a penchant for drama   
and liked making a big entrance. Tonight was no exception. He strutted in, his Jolteon trotting briskly next   
to him.   
  
He made his way through the crowd to the raised trainer's boxes in the arena, Ash following with quite a   
bit more humility. Gary mounted the platform and faced the crowd, which hushed as he prepared to speak.  
  
"Pleasant evening, guys?" he smirked. There were a few odd responses from the crowd, and Gary   
continued. "Right, then. I believe the main battle for tonight is Raiden versus Hiro. You guys both here?"  
  
"Here," the two youths chimed.  
  
"Good. We're gonna need everyone to move quickly between battles, we've got a full schedule for the   
night and I don't want anyone leaving here without at least one match. By the way, Koa, I heard your   
Drowzee evolved. Congrats." The crowed cheered briefly as Koa blushed, grinning widely.   
  
Gary continued. "Alright. The lineup is already posted, you know what to do." The crowd broke into   
conversation as the first trainers entered the arena and bowed slightly, then retreated to their boxes. There   
was a wave of whirring noises as Pokémon were released to warm up for their own battles, as the first   
match of the night started off.   
  
Gary watched with satisfaction as the group milled about, each attending his or her own Pokémon and   
preparing for the practice. He truly enjoyed this, not just being idolized by every battle trainer in Kanto,   
but the camaraderie of a collective. He liked watching the children mature, seeing their Pokémon become   
stronger and their skill more finely honed. He turned to Ash. "I'm gonna go to the office and warm up.   
Are you going to be okay?"  
  
Ash glanced around nervously and nodded. He had been acting oddly all day, but after the morning he'd   
had, Gary couldn't blame him. "Okay. If you need me," he said, not bothering to finish the sentence. Ash   
nodded again and scanned the crowd.  
  
He saw Misty on the outskirts of the crowd. She had called her Clefable out and was scratching its belly,   
laughing as it bounced around. Ash approached her, unsure of why, exactly, he felt so drawn to speak with   
her. That dream had been so real, so palpable. He wanted to speak to her, if just to confirm that she did not   
have fangs or red eyes to sate his fears. He stopped a few feet in front of her and opened his mouth, still   
wondering how to address her. He could just see it. Hi, I barely know you, but can I check your teeth?   
You're not trying to kill me, are you?   
  
He closed his mouth again and cleared his throat. Misty finally noticed him and looked up, curious in what   
the boy wanted from her.   
  
"H…hi. My name's Ash. You're Misty, right?" Well, he may have been making a fool of himself, but at   
least he was good at it.  
  
"Yeah. I know your name, I think everybody here does," she said, smiling.   
  
Ash noted with satisfaction that she did not have fangs. "Oh? What else did they tell you about me?" He   
was gradually becoming more comfortable, unused to making small talk.  
  
The girl giggled. "Oh, I shouldn't say. I don't want to get anyone in trouble…"   
  
Ash smiled back. They said nothing for an awkward moment, then Misty invited him to sit with her,   
motioning to a nearby milk crate. Ash contemplated making an excuse and retreating to the office. He   
hadn't talked to anyone besides Gary and Jess in quite a while, and was sure that his social skills were   
lacking. But… well, she was pretty. He hadn't flirted with a pretty girl in the longest time.   
  
He smiled again and sat down. This could be interesting, he thought.   
  
  
  
  
Jessie returned home from work to a dozen roses and an address printed on a card. She grinned madly,   
dancing a little around her kitchen, her Meowth looking at her oddly. They'd been meeting for two weeks   
now, their nights out becoming more and more frequent.   
  
Jessie felt that she should be disappointed in herself, that she should be disgusted with the whole situation.   
She was in a relationship with a married man. If his wife found out, she would be the bad guy. If his wife   
found out…  
  
She showered and dressed, bouncing the entire time, her Meowth following her from room to room,   
incredulous. She called a cab and made it to the address ten minutes early. The destination was nothing   
short of amazing, as every place James had taken her was. The entire affair was like something out of a   
storybook, with candles and flowers and roaming musicians. She had yet to find a single fault with   
James—except, of course, that he was married. She wondered when this fantasy would end and reality   
would come crashing back in on her.   
  
No, that was wrong. He *did* have faults. He was too complacent and agreeable, and had a tendency to be   
taken advantage of. But that was a fault she felt she could live with.   
  
She was ushered to a table set off from the rest, champagne already chilling in a bucket next to the table.   
She suppressed a girlish giggle of excitement. She was giddy. How pitiful is that, she thought. A man   
asks for champagne and you squeal.   
  
She forced herself to calm down as she saw James' elegant figure in the doorway. He strode over to the   
table—even his walk bespoke of dignity—and kissed the palm of her hand. Her heart melted.   
  
Over the first course, they made small talk. The conversation quickly turned to deeper things, though.   
Summing up all her will, Jessie decided to ask him the question that had been bothering her for days.  
  
"James," she asked quietly, "What will happen if… when… Jessibelle finds out?" She knew the answer to   
this question, she believed. It would be over. The fairy tale would end.  
  
James spoke evenly, looking Jessie in the eye, the deep green of his eyes soulful and completely honest,   
almost naïve. "It would be a messy divorce. 'Belle would get a lot in the proceedings, probably more than   
half of what I own. But I'm sure we'll do fine. I have a good education, and I could get a job quickly, if   
things came to that end. But even less than half of what I have now is more than enough to live   
comfortably for a while."  
  
Jessie gawked. Her heart spun in her chest, making her slightly dizzy. She blinked once. "You… you   
would leave her? For me?"  
  
James seemed almost hurt by her question, and his face contorted with sincerity and longing, "Jessie, I love   
you. I would do anything for you, anything. I thought you knew that."  
  
"I… I'm…" He'd just said he loved her. He was in love with her. She was paralyzed, surprised,   
overjoyed. "You… love me?"  
  
"More than anything. More than all my money, cars, my home, my life, all combined. They pale in   
comparison. I know it seems a little soon to be saying such things, but it feels right."  
  
She was speechless, again. She had the feeling that she was coming over as a complete baka, but her brain   
had gone into a state of complete shock and she was functioning completely on adrenaline and emotion.   
"I… I don't know what… to say, I mean…"  
  
James' eyes saddened as he watched her fumble over her words. He licked his lips and spoke hesitantly.   
"Jess, if you… if you don't feel the same way, I won't hold it against you, I won't even…"  
  
"I love you too. James." she managed to squeak out her words at last.  
  
  
She pushed him back onto the bed, nipping at his bottom lip playfully. The sheets were cool against his   
skin and heightened his senses even more, making him aware of every small flame that erupted in his veins.   
Jessie lay over him, hovering above him, giggling childishly. He couldn't help but laugh with her, finding   
no easier way to relieve the tension of knowing what he was doing was completely wrong in one sense, but   
so right in another. He ran his hands down her sides, her skin hot and smooth to his touch. She smiled   
again, and fell into his arms.   
  
He pressed himself against her, drinking in the warmth of their contact, loving the way their bodies fit   
together in every curve. James suddenly grinned widely and rolled on top of her, pulling the sheets over   
their heads and making the bed into a tent.   
  
Their forms twisted beneath the blanket as Jessie's pet Meowth watched, wondering just what had gotten   
into his master.  
  
  
  
  
The Underground practice had gone well: Misty had won both her matches after hard fights. She could   
have sworn Goldeen looked ready to evolve after the first battle. And she had spent the majority of the   
night on the edge of the crowd, talking to the sad-eyed Ash Ketchum.   
  
Misty was furious with herself.  
  
Dammit, she *hated* that man for making her like him. How could he? Didn't he realize that she was the   
bad guy?  
  
She kicked the refrigerator door, scaring Clefable. He ran into the living room yelping, hoping he hadn't   
done something wrong. Misty sighed. She really should try to handle this more maturely and stop kicking   
things.   
  
Just for good measure, though, she kicked the refrigerator again and stomped into the bathroom.   
  
Damn him, damn him, damn him, she thought in time with her steps. And damn Gary, too, while you're at   
it. He's too friendly, and too talented, and too good with Pokémon. And too cute, she added. Gary Oak   
was too cute for his own good.   
  
She sat silently and tried not to think as she ran her bath water. Clefable padded into the bathroom and   
rubbed his head against her legs, trying to comfort her. She patted his head, then shooed him out of the   
bathroom so she could undress.  
  
The warm water closed around her, the scent of vanilla and peaches drifting in the air. Bubble baths always   
cleared her mind, or at least stopped her from assaulting her fridge. Her thoughts turned yet again to her   
current moral dilemma that was causing this outbreak of appliance abuse.   
  
She knew that she wasn't a bad person at heart. Everybody did bad things once in a while, right? She just   
got paid for the bad things she did. Wow, that sounded dirty.   
  
Did she really want to impress her family so much? They had never really taken her seriously. She was   
the youngest of four girls, and the only one who wasn't married with children and jobs and cuisinarts. She   
didn't even want to be married, and she wasn't ready for kids. She was twenty-two, she was just emerging   
into the real world herself. Just because her sisters had married off as quickly as possible didn't mean she   
had to, did it?   
  
She drew her hands through the water lazily, watching the ripples vibrate through the tub. She didn't   
necessarily want to be on Team Rocket. It certainly wasn't her first choice. But she needed to make a   
living, and the job paid relatively well for the amount of work she had to do.   
  
She bit her lip and decided that she would do no more bonding with either of the boys. If she became   
attached to them, she couldn't do her job, and if she couldn't do her job, she would get fired and run home   
with her dignity shot out from under her. She could almost hear her parents saying I told you so.   
  
It wasn't a pleasant prospect. She had very few options. None of them were easy. She sank up to her nose   
in the water and damned those boys. Why couldn't they be complete assholes?   
  
  
"Ash Ketchum, you dog!" Gary laughed. "I was surprised she didn't come back to the apartment with   
you." Ash glared, threatening to hit his friend if he didn't cool it. Gary grinned and looked ahead again,   
trying not to laugh. He finally snickered out, "D'you think you'd make her call you Master?"  
  
"Oh, that's it, Gary. You may have big-strong-mean Pokémon, but I can still kick your ass!" The two took   
off at a run, Gary darting through the deserted streets towards their apartment, laughing, as Ash became   
progressively madder. Gary screamed, making as much of a scene as he could. Ash eventually caught the   
other boy and jumped on him from behind, grabbing him in a headlock. "Noogie!" he crowed loudly,   
grinding his fist into Gary's skull.  
  
Gary was elated. Ash hadn't shown this much happiness for longer than he could remember. "Ow, ow,   
hey, watch the hair, man!"   
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you sound like a wounded Rattata when you scream?"  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you sound like Mr. Mime during sex?"  
  
"What?! When the hell did you find that out?"  
  
"We have thin walls, Ashy-boy." Gary giggled as Ash threw himself at him again. He ducked and backed   
away, just out of the other boy's reach.   
  
Ash laughed and ran after him. "You wanna know what your *mom* sounds like during sex?"  
  
"Oh, that's just juvenile!"  
  
"This coming fr… hey, hold up, Gary." Ash lost his playful tone as he pulled Gary to the wall, behind a   
Dumpster. He noticed numbly that it appeared their elderly neighbors had been cleaning house—there   
were boxes and bags of old clothes and trinkets stacked along the wall. "Look," he pointed.  
  
Gary peered around the corner. "Shit," he whispered. There were two cars parked outside of the building,   
and neither of them held any Officer Jennys. Instead they held large men dressed in black. He turned back.   
"Who do you think they're after?"  
  
"Gary, the only other people in this building are either incredibly old or have nine kids and crappy jobs.   
They're after us."   
  
"But… who are they?"  
  
"Don't ask me," Ash murmured, glancing around the corner again and then slouching against the wall. "I   
think we're sleepin' in the alley tonight. We're screwed."  
  
Gary leaned against the wall next to his friend, thinking for a moment. "No… nah, it shouldn't be too hard   
to get it. Can't we send up Fearow or something to break the window?" He unclipped a Pokéball from his   
belt, thumb poised over the release button.  
  
"No, they'll hear the glass break. And I think they'll notice her, too. She's kind of big for a Fearow."  
  
"Shit. What do we do?"  
  
  
Brutus leaned his head back against the headrest and tapped his foot impatiently. He glanced out the   
window at the stoop of the building they were watching, then at the clock, then back at the building. He   
huffed and reached for the radio dial, bored. His hand was slapped away.  
  
"What's that for? Why can't I have the radio?" he whined. "Nothin's happenin' out there. Jes lemme   
listen to the game for a while."  
  
His partner frowned. "I don't care if you're bored or not, Brut, we're on watch here. If we miss this hit the   
boss's gonna be pissed."   
  
Brutus scowled for a minute and studied the door handle, then spoke. "What I don't get, Nicky," he said,   
"Is why the boss would set us on these kids. It's not like they're doin' anythin'. And issin' there already a   
kid s'posed to be undercover?" He scratched his nose thoughtfully.  
  
Nick shrugged. "All I know's that we're here to take care of 'em. Quit your whining. Hey, here comes   
someone…" He gestured to a figure emerging from the alley. Brutus put one hand on the door handle and   
the other on the butt of his pistol.   
  
"Issit them?" he asked, excitedly, eager for a chance to get out of the car. The figure became clearer as it   
approached: A hunchbacked old lady buried beneath a shoddy coat with a ragged shawl over her head   
staggered up the front steps of the building. Brutus moaned and flopped back in his seat. "Aw man, just   
some ol' hag…" The stooped figure unlocked the front door and melted into the darkness beyond. Brutus   
reached for the radio again.  
  
  
Ash carefully shut the door behind him and checked to see it was locked before taking the muddy shawl off   
of his head. "Gary," he growled, "Would you please get off of me?"  
  
Gary grinned from his perch on Ash's back, under the old oilskin trench coat. "No way, man. I like being   
your hump." He snickered. His friend flailed around madly, trying to dislodge the boy from his back.   
  
"Listen, I don't mind carrying you when our lives are potentially being threatened, but… dammit, you're   
fat!"  
  
"Am not! I'll have you know that I'm very fit for my height. You're just jealous," he said, tightening his   
arms around Ash's neck as Ash continued to try to buck him off. "Hey, hey, easy there, fella. I wanna ride   
you up the stairs."  
  
"Gah! Gary, would you stop saying things like that? The neighbors will get ideas!"  
  
"The neighbors are gonna get ideas no matter what," he said. A wild glint crept into his eyes. He leaned   
back and shouted, "Oh yes! Yes! Ash! Give it to me rough!"  
  
Ash yelped and ran up the stairs to their apartment, Gary still latched comfortably to his back. Once the   
door was shut and locked, Ash dropped the boy and smacked him on the back of his head. "You are such   
an ass!"  
  
Gary giggled. "Nah, I just know how to get what I want." He sauntered off into the kitchen, smirking over   
his shoulder, "You're a great ride, Ashy-boy. I bet that Misty would *love* to hear all about it…"  
  
Ash's nostrils flared as he threw himself once again at his friend, knocking him to the linoleum floor of the   
kitchen and mock-throttling him.  
  
"Gak! Hey, alright, Ketchum, you've made your…ack…point!" Gary shouted. "Haven't you got more   
important things to do than try to kill your best friend?"  
  
Ash paused in his fit to consider this. "Like what," he asked, tensing his fingers around Gary's neck.   
  
"Er… like find out who's stalking us. You can't kill me! People would ask… gah!"  
  
Frowning, Ash released Gary's neck, his head thudding on the floor. "Such a nice guy, you are," Gary   
growled. "No wonder all the girls like you…" He stood up, brushed himself off, and went to open the hall   
closet, extracting his field binoculars and approaching the front window cautiously. Ash followed, acting   
disinterested and making various hissing noises. Gary tried his best to tune him out, focusing the lenses on   
the two cars parked in the street below.   
  
He snickered. "Well, they sure are trying to keep a low profile."  
  
"What? What?" Ash said, eagerly, groping for the binoculars. "Lemme see." He held the lenses up to his   
eyes and focused on the man in the passenger seat of the closest car. Into the black of the man's shirt, there   
was emblazoned a red "R".   
  
He felt his entire being tense as he leaned against the wall next to the window. Crap, he thought. He   
preferred having the police after them—at least they had certain protocols to follow. But no, now they had   
to have the police *and* Team Rocket stalking them. He swore quietly and stalked through the dark room   
to the kitchen.  
  
Gary watched him go, and called, "What do you suggest we do?" Ash reappeared in the doorway with a   
soda and a bag of chips.  
  
"Eat?"  
  
  
  
  
Misty sulked, again in the squeaky leather chair surrounded by an aura of thick smoke. "He has a level   
seventy-something Jolteon, that's the one he uses most often. He also has a Dragonite and a Fearow, I   
think, and a Arcanine… they're around sixty. He's training a Bellsprout right now, and I've seen him with   
a high-level Sandslash and a Gyrados before, too. He probably has more in storage in the little office in   
back. They would be prime targets, if Gary trained them then you can bet they're good. The other boy,   
Ketchum," she said, pretending she was someone else and trying to shrug off the immense guilt that was   
curling around her, mixing with the cigar smoke and making her nauseous. "Ketchum doesn't keep   
Pokémon, I don't think. I've never seen him with anything but a Vulpix, but he's never fought it. I don't   
think he's a problem."  
  
Giovanni nodded, chewing on the butt of a cigar. "What about the rest of the trainers?" he growled.  
  
"They have the standard. There are a few really good Pokémon in there, though. Someone has a   
particularly quick Ivysaur, and another kid's Rhyhorn is just itching to evolve, I can tell. There are a   
couple other good ones. Rare Pokémon, too, there's a Porygon and a Raichu in the group. Is that enough?"   
She slouched back into the chair, relieved to have gotten through her report without crying.  
  
"I don't like the idea of Ketchum not keeping Pokémon. We had an eye on that kid when he was younger,   
and he was obsessed with them. He wouldn't just stop training," he said, tapping his fingers together. "He   
must be up to something," he muttered. "Have you gotten closer to him, to find out what's going on?"  
  
Misty thought for a moment, groping for an appropriate excuse. "No," she lied. "He's unreachable. He   
just broods all the time and sits in the back office. He's harmless."  
  
"I think I'll decide who's a target and who's not," the large man sneered. "You just keep up appearances.   
I'll take care of everything else." He motioned to the door. Misty left eagerly, leaving the heavy, oak-  
paneled doors swinging behind her.   
  
Giovanni glared after her, unhappy with the way things were going. It appeared that the girl, Misty, was   
not to be trusted. They may have to go over her head and take action without warning her of it. Giovanni   
did not like turncoats.   
  
He lifted the phone on his desk, punching in his access code and flicking the switch to the trace scrambler   
next to it. He listened to the first two rings, and then:  
  
"Hello, Vermilion police station. Officer Jenny speaking, how may I help you?"  
  
"I'd like to report some illegal Pokémon battles," the man said. "They are being held in an old warehouse   
west of town, four miles down Route 11. They will be meeting there tonight. Thank you." He dropped the   
receiver back into the cradle and leaned back in his chair. Although he didn't like resorting to legal means,   
it seemed the easiest way to dissolve this group before it became a threat. He lit another cigar.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ash had reverted back to sulking. Gary was slightly upset about his friend's regression after so much   
progress in the past few days, but he was too busy being mad about the situation to attempt to console the   
boy. They had fled the apartment via fire escape and Fearow's back, opting to keep off the ground where   
Team Rocket lied in wait. Their escape had not gone unnoticed, though, and Gary's Fearow had barely   
avoided a bullet wound to the wing. Returning to the apartment didn't look like an option.  
  
The warehouse was packed, as usual, when Ash and Gary arrived. Instead of his normal dramatic entrance,   
though, Gary called on one of the senior trainers to run the meeting.   
  
The boys retreated to one of the only places they both felt safe. Up above the catwalks, near the leaky   
ceiling, there was a lofted section of walkway shrouded in darkness that provided an excellent view of the   
battles below. This is where the two would often observe matches, Ash relishing the solitude of the place,   
Gary enjoying the feeling of omnipotence the perch gave him. Here both boys were sprawled across the   
floor. Gary was lying on his stomach, watching the match in the arena below through the grating of the   
floor. Ash was on his back, staring at the roof. "You think Team Rocket knows about this place?" he   
asked, swallowing back the bile in his throat.   
  
"I don't think so. Everyone in here knows what will happen if they tell one person about this place.   
Everything will be over in a snap, just like that," Gary said, halfheartedly watching a Farfetch'd beat the   
senses out of a Raticate on the floor below him.   
  
Ash bit his lip. "And if they did? All those kids in juvenile detention for three months. And the older   
members? What would happen after they got out of jail? They'd be ostracized! They're normal, healthy   
citizens who just happen to love training Pokémon to do what they do best." He sighed, unhooking   
Vulpix's Pokéball from his belt. It felt heavy and cool in his hand, the smooth surface, the thin groove   
where the ball split in two. He'd just gotten her back after four days at the Pokémon center. He had missed   
her. She was weak, but recovering quickly. His voice cracked as he spoke. "And what's worse is that all   
of their Pokémon…"  
  
Gary raised his head from the grating and looked at his friend. "Hey, Ash, nothing's happened. Don't beat   
yourself up over something you can't control, okay?"  
  
Ash blinked rapidly and nodded, replacing the Pokéball and folding his arms behind his head.   
  
  
Misty was nauseous through the entire practice. She wasn't worried in the least about her upcoming   
battle—she never worried about battles. But she watched all the happy, excited faces around her and   
thought she was going to be sick. Every person here was risking their reputations, their jobs, their futures   
for something that they loved. They had held together through violent oppression and hatred, holding on to   
what little dignity they could glean from calling themselves true Pokémon Trainers. They were risking   
everything stable in their worlds for three nights a week in a battle arena. And she'd screwed them all over   
because of her own pride.   
  
Gritting her teeth, she stepped outside into the chilly night and pulled out her cell phone.   
  
"Giovanni's office, how can I help you?" came the nasal voice at the end of the line.  
  
"This is Misty Waterflower, and I just wanted to leave a message for the Boss to tell him that I quit." She   
felt her pulse quicken as she imagined what could happen to her because of those words. There were   
rumors that nobody left Team Rocket alive. But they were rumors, she told herself. Rumors. She'd be   
fine. She thumbed the phone off before the Boss's secretary could speak again and headed back into the   
crowd.  
  
  
Ash sat up next to his friend, his eyes widening. "Gary?" he said, weakly.  
  
Gary looked up, concerned. "You okay, man?"  
  
"Something's wrong. Something's wrong. It feels wrong. Can't you feel it?" Another chill passed   
through Ash's body as the pressure of the premonition closed even tighter around him.   
  
"Feel what?"  
  
"Something's *wrong!*" He rose and headed to the ladder, falling backwards when an explosion sent their   
suspended loft swinging. Gary caught him before he hit the metal grating. Ash didn't move.   
  
Gary twisted and looked down towards the arena, hoping to god that the explosion had been a particularly   
enthusiastic self-destruct in the battle below. The Underground trainers were running, returning their   
Pokémon, trying to reach the doors as the warehouse filled with smoke. A voice came over a loudspeaker   
in the distance.  
  
"This is the police! Put your Pokéballs on the ground and exit the building with your hands on your   
heads!"  
  
Gary swore quietly and turned back to Ash, who was limp in his arms. Gary's pulse jumped further when   
he saw that Ash was unconscious. He swore again and took his friend's pulse. At least he was still alive.   
  
Below, the pandemonium slowed. None of the trainers were armed, and their Pokémon could potentially   
get shot if set upon the police, so there was very little violence. Three Officer Jennys were standing in the   
broken doorway, shouting directions to the rest of the officers. The explosion had taken out the doors, and   
the cold November wind whipped through the warehouse. A number of younger officers were rushing   
through the crowd, handcuffing every person they could reach and leading them outside, where barred   
trucks were being rapidly filled. Gary watched as one girl—Koa, he realized numbly, the girl whose   
Drowzee had recently evolved—made a desperate run for the back door.  
  
She was plowed into from behind by one of the officers. She hit the cement floor with a sickening thud.   
When the policeman got off of her and stood her up, her nose and lip were bleeding. Despite her state, the   
officer pushed her around as he cuffed her and led her to a truck.  
  
Gary watched silently from his dark little hiding spot, wishing that there was a way to stop the proceedings   
below. The thought for a moment of releasing his Dragonite and… no. One Hyper Beam would certainly   
take out the seven squad cars outside, but it would also blow the trucks full of arrested trainers away. He   
searched desperately for a way to stop this, ploughed through his brain for a way to give himself over in   
return for these legions of trainers and their beloved Pokémon.  
  
There was nothing.   
  
In the arena, someone had released a Persian. It hissed and backed towards the wall, its hackles raised, not   
understanding why it had been called out. Guns were drawn. The Pokémon's blood pooled in the red   
trainer's box, snaking towards a drain in the floor. The Persian's owner, a teenaged boy, was screaming   
and kicking at the policemen who held his arms and legs. He was dragged from the warehouse.   
  
Deserted Pokéballs littered the floors, forming a desolate portrait against the Pokémon's creamy coat, now   
matting and soaking red with its blood.  
  
Almost paralyzed, Gary watched as the warehouse was slowly cleared. Ash's eyelids fluttered, and Gary   
held a hand over his friend's mouth as the boy awoke. He felt his best friend's body twist and tense as he   
noticed the elegantly sculpted Persian leak its life into the drainage pipes. The boy whimpered, and his   
breathing became labored as he hyperventilated, panicking.   
  
"Ash," Gary whispered into his friend's ear. "Ash, you have to be quiet. Silent. Please. Please, do it for   
me, okay? Be quiet." He released the boy. Ash buried his head in Gary's arm and broke into violent sobs.   
Gary rested his forehead against the back of the boy's head, his own tears throbbing and stinging in his   
eyes as he tried his hardest to remain the strong one to support his broken friend.  
  
The two boys were stuck in the loft for hours, hidden from the officers who searched through the building   
for them. Earlier Gary had heard the ever-quick-witted Koa telling the police that Ash and Gary had never   
shown up, that one of their Pokémon was sick and they hadn't come in that night. She had said this in   
mock-anger, using her emotion as an excuse to scream it loud enough for the two boys to hear her. Gary   
breathed a silent thank-you to her as she was stuffed into the back of a squad car. Apparently, as young as   
she was, she was being held as one of the ringleaders. Gary squeezed his eyes shut. Koa was one of the   
most irrepressible teens he had ever met. She was always in the middle of everything. It figured that they   
would see her as in charge. He tried not to imagine her in prison, knowing her precious Pokémon were   
being auctioned off to the highest bidder. And if they were deemed as too dangerous for resale…  
  
Gary thanked Mew that he hadn't been in the group. His Pokémon were all high-level, battle-ready, quick-  
thinking, nature-built fighting creatures, each of them the most keen and strong of its species that he could   
find. They would not have been appreciated for their talent by the police, though, and would have been   
immediately euthanized. He felt a pang of desperation, understanding what Ash had gone through after his   
Pikachu was deemed a lethal weapon and put down.   
  
The warehouse was empty now, with only one patrol car outside, keeping watch on the building. The dead   
Persian had been taken off in several garbage bags. The Pokéballs had been collected, the lights turned out   
in the building. Gary shook his friend, who had fallen into a shallow sleep, and motioned towards the   
ladder. The boys crept from the building through the back door.   
  
  
Misty had heard the cars approach the warehouse and crept into a nearby clump of trees. From her leafy   
vantagepoint, she watched as the police raided the building and dragged the trainers off.   
  
Mosquitoes whined in her ears and pricked at her skin as she watched, her stomach churning. She heard   
some shouts from inside the building, past her field of vision, and a gunshot. Someone started screaming.   
A few minutes later three policemen carried out a sobbing, flailing young man clutching an empty Pokéball   
in his fist.   
  
Misty turned and threw up, the hot bile steaming in the cold of the night. The smell of it made her sick   
again. She crawled a distance away and curled up in a fetal position. It was her fault. It was all her fault.   
  
  
  
  
James let himself in through the service door in the cool of the early morning hours, his face flushed with   
cold and afterglow. The house was dark, and he shuffled through the back hall clumsily, walking into an   
occasional lamp stand or chair. He stumbled into music room and stubbed his toe on a stool. He yelped   
loudly.  
  
"You should be more careful, James, dear," said the even voice of Jessibelle. He jumped at the sound of   
her voice. Light flooded the room as she flipped on a lamp. She was reclined on a couch glaring daggers   
at her husband. "Well, this certainly is unseemly, is it not? A gentleman returning home to his wife at   
three AM?" She rose from her chair and approached him.  
  
"I… I'm sorry, 'Belle, I… uh, was at the club, and…"  
  
"Don't bother with that story with me, James," she snarled. "I called the country club. They said that you   
hadn't been in, and you'd not been for months."  
  
James was silent, caught in his lie. His stomach whirled, his heart beating an allegro in his chest.   
  
"So, James," Jessibelle continued, "Who is she? Is she some hussy you met on the street? Some waitress   
that you met while with me? Or is it some filthy little whore who you're spending *our* money on?  
  
Despite his shocked state, James found himself rushing at his wife. He stopped himself a foot away, his   
fists clenched. "Don't… ever speak of her that way again," he growled, his face burning.   
  
Jessibelle stared him in the eye for a moment, and suddenly swung at him. A handprint was left where she   
had slapped him. James said nothing. Jessibelle watched him for a moment, and then spoke. "Well, I see   
you have gone astray. I suppose it happens to the most established families." She eyed him, and turned   
away. "I'm disappointed in you, James. You could have potentially scarred the Kojiro family name. I   
suppose we're just lucky I caught you in time to set you back on the right track." She spoke   
condescendingly, her words disturbing James deeply.  
  
"What do you mean, the right track?" he said, quietly. "You surely don't expect me just to desert her."  
  
"Why not?" Jessibelle asked, turning her nose in the air. "What does she have to offer you?"  
  
James fumed silently for a moment, trying to control himself. "If we divorce, Jessibelle, over half of my   
estate will be *yours.* Half of everything. You could keep the estate and live out your happy, shallow   
little life."  
  
Jessibelle stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. "You actually think that I would allow you to   
divorce me?" She crossed the room and looked out a window, although the night was black. "You naïve   
man. Something like that would be a permanent stain on my reputation! No, you will remain here, with   
me."  
  
James breathed harder, his face turning red. "All of it. I'll give you all of it!"  
  
She laughed again, looking at him with cold hatred in her eyes. "James, dear, you're offering me   
something that is already mine. If you die, everything belongs to me."  
  
"You… you wouldn't," he said. "How do you think *that* would look to your precious reputation? Your   
husband dying under suspicious circumstances? You wouldn't."  
  
Jessiebelle thought for a moment, and then walked up to her husband and placed her hands on his   
shoulders. "No, dear, you are right. I would never harm you." She smiled sweetly. "But that girl… I'm   
sure nobody would ever tie someone like *me* into her untimely demise, would they?" With that, she   
swept out of the room, leaving James speechless.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jessie awoke with a start. She glanced at her alarm clock, which read 5:37. Someone began banging on   
her door again, and she pulled on her robe, dull with sleep.  
  
"Hello?" she called through the door. "Who is it?"  
  
"Jess! It's me!" the voice came, desperate. "It's Gary! Let me in!"  
  
She frowned and unlocked the door, pulling it open. Gary staggered in, supporting a limp and ill-looking   
Ash. He stumbled, almost buckling under the weight of his friend. Jessie rushed to Ash's side and grabbed   
his other arm, and helped Gary lay him on the couch.  
  
"What happened?" she breathed. "Is he okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Gary panted, collapsing onto the couch next to Ash. "Yeah, physically, he's fine. I think he's in   
some sort of shock."  
  
"What happened?" Jessie repeated, kneeling next to the unconscious boy.  
  
Gary spoke, his voice pained. "There… there was a bust at the Underground meet tonight. They arrested   
everyone. We were up in the loft, they didn't notice us. And Team Rocket has a hit on us both. Our   
apartment is being watched."   
  
Jessie drew her breath in sharply. "My god. What happened to him?"  
  
"Hold on, I'm not done," Gary said, his tone dark. "They… Some kid released his Persian. The damn   
cops shot it on sight."  
  
"Did he…"  
  
"Did Ash see it? Oh, yeah. He saw that beautiful animal spill its guts onto the arena floor. I don't know if   
he'll recover from this one, it hit him pretty hard."   
  
Jessie whimpered quietly, her heart aching. She may not have been able to support Ash in a relationship,   
but she still cared for him more than she led him to believe. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get him some   
blankets." Gary nodded, his eyes never leaving his friend's tortured features.   
  
The boy stirred, sobbing quietly in his sleep.   
  
  
"No! Pikachu!" He reached desperately for his Pokémon as he was carried away.   
  
"Pikapi! Chu, pi!" The little creature threw himself against the bars of the carrier he was locked in,   
releasing several bursts of electricity the rubber-enforced cage absorbed easily. He reached his little paw   
between the bars toward his trainer. "Pikapi!"  
  
"Pikachu!" Ash sobbed. "I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Cha…" A Pokémon Control officer lifted the cage into the back of a truck as Ash was pushed into the   
back of a squad car. The look on his beloved Pokémon's face burned into his retinas.   
  
"Pikachu…"   
  
  
Jessie swallowed uncomfortably as the phone rang. It was seven o'clock, she knew James would be up by   
now, but she ran over every worst-case scenario in her mind, positive that she would get his wife, or disturb   
their sleep. On the third ring it was answered.  
  
"Good morning, Kojiro residence. How may I help you?" the man said, his voice disdainful.   
  
"Ah, hello. May I please speak to James Kojiro?" she asked, her voice almost betraying her nervousness.  
  
"What is this in regards to?"  
  
"Could you just tell him it's important?"  
  
"Yes, madam. Hold, please." The phone went dead as Jessie breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she   
hadn't been questioned further. A moment later, James picked up.  
  
"Hello?" He sounded unhappy.  
  
"James! James, it's me. There's a problem…"  
  
"Jess?" His tone dropped to a whisper. "Jessie, I have to talk to you about…"  
  
"Not right now!" she said, urgency creeping into her tone. "Let me speak first, okay?"  
  
"…okay…"  
  
"I… some friends of mine… do you know anything about illegal Pokémon battling?" Jessie hesitantly   
detailed Ash's life story, the trauma he had been through after his arrest and his mother's death, the history   
behind the Underground, and finishing with a recount of the night's raid. Jessie hoped desperately that he   
wouldn't be too upset to hear of her proximity to the Underground. She left out the fact that she   
occasionally battled, herself, hoping to spare the man some trauma. James was silent throughout her   
explanation. When she stopped, he paused for a moment before responding.  
  
"Okay. What do you need my help with?"  
  
Jessie breathed easier, and thought for a moment about how to phrase her request. "Well, they claimed all   
of the Underground trainer's Pokémon. None of them are strong enough to be classified as a lethal   
weapon, so I don't think they'll euthanize them. But… they *will* sell them off. All those young   
trainers… the majority of them are between fifteen and twenty. Imagining all those people with their best   
friends ripped out from their hearts… I don't mean to appear greedy, but…"  
  
"I'll call in. I'll buy them and keep them here until their trainers can reclaim them. How long will the   
trainers be in jail?"  
  
Jessie's mind was still spinning from James' willingness to spend that much money on illegal trainers he   
had never met. "I… uh, I think they'll be in for about three months. That's the minimum time, I think.   
You'll really keep all the Pokémon for them?"  
  
James paused again for a second. "I… I know how much my Pokémon mean to me. I couldn't imagine   
them being torn away from me like that. Yes, I'll do it. But, Jess, I have something I need to say…" he   
sounded infinitely sorrowful, pausing for a moment and taking an audible breath.  
  
"Y…yes? Is everything okay?"  
  
"No, Jess, everything's not okay. I can't see you anymore. It's for your own good. You can't call here   
anymore, either. You're not safe…"  
  
"But… James, I…" Jessie stuttered, unable to find words. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.  
  
"I won't *let* you. I won't see you hurt because of me, I love you too much for that. I have to go now."   
He hung up.   
  
Jessie felt a numbness creep over her as she stood staring dumbly at the receiver. The noise of a city   
waking up that drifted on a cool breeze through the opened windows dulled to a white roar, as the buzzing   
of the dial tone became the focus of her world. It was over…  
  
  
  
  
All in all, Giovanni was in a very good mood as he strolled into his office that morning. Not that you could   
tell—he still wore the sour, vicious expression that his secretary was so accustomed to. But it didn't matter   
how he looked, because he felt practically euphoric. He had almost one hundred battle-trained Pokémon,   
waiting at the police station for someone to claim them in auction. And very, very few civilians would   
keep battle-trained Pokémon, for fear of a reprise of that vile and gruesome match that had killed those   
passive observers and the sport forever. But even if there *was* a collector out there interested in the   
Underground's claimed Pokémon, Giovanni had an offer cooked up that he knew the Officer Jenny in   
charge couldn't refuse.  
  
He sighed happily as he sank into the giant leather chair behind his big, polished mahogany desk and put   
his feet up on its surface, grabbing the stack of mail as he leaned back. He noticed a note from his   
secretary in the pile, her sharp, efficient and cold handwriting on white notepad paper, its red ink standing   
out from the stack of bills. He scanned the note quickly—no, it couldn't say what he'd thought it had said.   
He read it again, his brow darkening.  
  
Resigned. He should have seen that one coming, the girl was too weak for the Team. But he'd never   
thought she could muster the courage to actually leave. He frowned further, considering carefully his   
options.   
  
He didn't think she would talk, but then, he hadn't thought she would resign. She was a crafty one, all   
right, and had probably been playing him the entire time, hiding her motives behind a meek and submissive   
exterior.  
  
She would have to be taken care of. Giovanni growled softly, angry for having his perfect morning   
interrupted. He calmed himself, though, with the thought of the phone call he was about to make. The   
prospect of it made him almost giddy. He flicked on the vidscreen and dialed the number for the local   
police.   
  
He was positive that the police would sell him the Pokémon without going through the motions of an   
auction. He had the Vermilion police under his thumb, as well as the Celadon and Viridian branches. The   
majority of Team Rocket's business was conducted in Celadon, and the site of Giovanni's old Pokémon   
gym was in Viridian, but he preferred to keep his headquarters out of the way, in Vermilion. He could get   
to either city fast enough by his personal jet, and he much preferred the quiet, seaside city to bustling   
Celadon or obscure and out-of-the-way Viridian.   
  
The vidscreen snapped to life as Officer Jenny answered the phone. "Why, good morning, Mr. Giovanni!   
How is business at Silph Co.?"  
  
"Fine, fine," he mumbled. "But I'm not calling about pleasantries, Officer. I'd like to inquire about the   
purchasing of the Pokémon seized in yesterday evening's raid against the Underground. I read about it in   
the paper this morning." Jenny nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Giovanni continued talking. "I   
would like to request that you bypass the standard public auction of the Pokémon, and sell them to Silph   
Co. I am willing to pay upwards of 500,000 for them." He paused.  
  
"Well, sir, there's…"  
  
"No, no, I'm not done yet. I will also offer you and additional 500,000 for the preservation of Gary Oak   
and Ash Ketchum's Pokémon, in lieu of the procedural euthanasia for such high-level Pokémon. That is   
my offer, and I...."  
  
Jenny interrupted this time, talking loudly to overpower Giovanni and stop him in his rant. "I'm sorry, sir,   
but Oak and Ketchum were not detained. They weren't present at the meeting yesterday during the raid."  
  
Giovanni's jaw dropped slightly, blood rushing to his face. Officer Jenny continued. "And I'm afraid the   
Pokémon from the raid have already been bought up, for… I think it was two million. Now, normally we   
don't do favors for anyone other than you, sir, but with such a large amount being offered, we thought it   
was worthwhile." She smiled sweetly, then glanced off-screen. "Oops, I can't speak right now. But thank   
you for your inquiry, Mr. Giovanni." The screen whirred black, and the man started trembling, his fists   
clenched.  
  
Oak and Ketchum had not been taken. The Pokémon--*his* Pokémon!--had been sold.   
  
He howled and put his fist through the vidscreen, yelling louder as the circuitry zapped and the glass cut   
into his knuckles.   
  
His morning had been ruined.   
  
  
Misty bit her lip and studied the scrap of paper. She knew exactly what it said, but she scrutinized it   
nonetheless. She'd met Jessie once or twice, never enough to make the girl more than an acquaintance, but   
she knew that she and Ash were close. She had gone to his apartment, intent on finding him and confessing   
and begging for his and Gary's forgiveness, but the door had been locked, the lights dark.   
  
Desperate, she looked up Jessie's address in the phone book. She'd tried calling, but the line was busy.   
She finally decided to just show up. If nobody was there, it was no great loss—she had nowhere else to go.   
She was afraid to return to her apartment, positive that she would find some big Rocket thugs in her   
bathroom or something. Now, she was in the elevator on her way to the sixth floor of an apartment   
complex, apartment 19. The elevator doors pinged open.  
  
The apartment was at the end of a very long hallway drenched in early-morning sunlight. Misty knocked   
on the door tentatively, hoping someone would answer.  
  
"Who is it?" came Jessie's voice from inside. She sounded unhappy.   
  
"It's… it's Misty. From the…" she lowered her voice, checking the hallway before continuing. "From the   
Underground. Can I come in?" She heard a metallic rattle as the door was unlocked, then opened partway.   
She slipped through the opening and was surprised to find Ash stretched out on the couch, and Gary   
sprawled over a large chair next to him, both still wrapped in a fitful sleep. "I was looking for those two,"   
she said as Jessie shut and locked the door.   
  
Jessie sniffed softly, and Misty looked at her for the first time. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy.   
Misty blinked uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, did I come at a bad time?"  
  
Jessie opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and simply nodded. "You can stay, if you like," she   
said, her voice gravelly.  
  
"Are…are you okay?" Misty asked uncomfortably. Jessie shook her head and left in the direction of her   
bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Misty swallowed, hoping *that* wasn't her fault, too. She turned,   
startled, as she heard Gary yawning.  
  
She stepped into the living room. Gary looked surprised. "He… what're you doin' here? How'd you get   
away last night?" He stood up and quickly crossed the room, startling the slight girl by wrapping his arms   
around her.   
  
"I was out back making a phone call. I hid when I heard the cars coming." She drew back from the hug,   
studying the tops of her shoes. She would have loved the attention normally, but she knew she didn't   
deserve his concern. "Gary, I…"  
  
"Did anyone else get out? Do you know?"  
  
"No, I don't think anyone did. I have to…"  
  
"Wait, wait, I hafta wake Ash up. He's gonna want to hear this…" he threw himself at the couch, landing   
on top of his friend. "Hey, Ashy-boy, your *girlfriend* is here to see you!"  
  
Misty blushed despite her shame. Ash groaned and pushed Gary off of him, sending the boy into a coffee   
table. "Man, can't you try something nicer to wake me up? Like saying 'wake up'? That'd work…" Ash   
sat up on the couch, his face buried in his hands. He finally opened his eyes, and glanced up at Gary,   
squinting in the sunlight. "What were you talkin' about?"  
  
Gary rolled off the table and pointed over Ash's shoulder. The boy turned around. "Misty?"  
  
Misty licked her lips, the prospect of telling the boys the truth becoming harder and harder. "Hi."  
  
Ash squinted harder, unsure. "How… how'd you get away?"  
  
"I was outside. They didn't see me."  
  
Ash sat up, unsure of what to do. "I… well, I'm glad to know you're safe. Do you still have your   
Pokémon?"  
  
Misty nodded, and pulled her wool jacked back, revealing six Pokéballs at her side. Ash mumbled,   
"Great," quietly, his eyes locking with the girl's. They simply stared for a moment, the boy's sad, brown   
eyes enraptured in the depth of the girl's. Gary cleared his throat, and Ash and Misty both blushed   
furiously.  
  
Gary smiled impishly at the two. "I'll… go make some coffee. You just stay here." He sauntered to the   
kitchen, out of view of the couple. As soon as he knew they couldn't see, he did a little victory dance,   
flashed the 'V' sign to himself in a mirror, and jumped happily into the task of coffee making.   
  
  
  
  
"I don't care about the stupid *trainers!* I want those boys taken care of, and I it NOW!" the massive man   
spat into the phone. He slammed the handset back into the receiver and stormed across his luxurious   
office. He stomped to the fireplace, flexing his left hand into a fist and swishing a sifter of brandy in the   
other. He glowered at the low flames that were cracking in the hearth.   
  
He had not gotten what he wanted. He had tried legal means; he had tried to handle things legitimately.   
But the police had disappointed him, had let him down. They had not given him what he wanted.   
  
Oak and Ketchum were a threat. When his father ran Team Rocket, one young trainer had completely   
destroyed the Team. It was a long time ago—Giovanni could hardly recall the details. He was just a child   
at the time, confident in his father's infallibility. When that single trainer had torn the Team apart at its   
seams, his faith in his father had been shattered.   
  
He could see the potential in those boys. If he believed in such things as Fate or God, he would have said   
that they were destined to become incredible trainers. But he didn't invest in such petty ideas as those.   
Success was something to be won, to be conquered.  
  
He roared and threw the small glass at the brickwork of the hearth. It exploded into crystalline shards with   
a satisfying crackle. The alcohol splashed into the fire, sending tendrils of flame spouting up with the   
newfound fuel. Gary Oak and Ash Ketchum were an inconvenience, a threat to his empire. Giovanni   
stared at the flames reflecting off the fragments of shattered glass on the floor. They were young and   
inexperienced, but they had the very real possibility of becoming great. If one of them discovered this, it   
was only a short time until they worked out the plan that Giovanni himself had lost sleep over for years.   
  
A successful, Pokémon-assisted crusade against Team Rocket would work wonders on the public eye.   
See? They would say. Fight against the greater evil! Legalize battle-training so we can help you do away   
with Team Rocket!   
  
And, most likely, the public would embrace Oak and Ketchum with enthusiasm. They would have to be   
taken care of. He needed to find that Misty girl, she would know where they were.   
  
His intercom buzzed. Angry at the interruption in his cloud of sullen fury, he stomped back across the   
room and punched the button on it. "Mr. Giovanni, you have a call from Mr. Kosaburo from the field. He   
says he's found the information you wanted. Shall I put him through?"  
  
Giovanni grunted to himself. Butch Kosaburo very rarely did things right, but he was the only member of   
the team not currently on assignment or out of town. Butch had been his last resort. "Sure, put him   
through," he said, thinking that, at the very least, he could yell at the incompetent young man and make   
himself feel better. The phone burred the announcement of the transfer. Giovanni sank back into his plush   
executive chair and lifted the receiver. "Kosaburo," he said, emptily. "I hear you have news for me."  
  
"Yeah, Boss, I found what you wanted." Butch's acidic voice grated against Giovanni's eardrums, making   
him cringe internally.  
  
"Good." There was hesitant silence for a moment as Giovanni waited for the man to respond. Nothing   
came. "Well?" he asked, hoping to move the conversation along more active lines.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Butch said. Rustling papers could be heard over the line. "Uh… yeah, here it is. The   
Pokémon were bought up at… 7:34 this morning. Paid for on a Mew Card belonging to one Mr. James   
Kojiro. Does that help?"  
  
Giovanni immediately recognized the name. The Kojiro family was one of the wealthiest in Kanto, with an   
estate spanning over ten miles square. Team Rocket kept files on people with that much money, and the   
Kojiro file stood out for its painful lack of anything significant.   
  
They had not established any schools. They had not contributed to the city. They had not funded the   
harbor renovation. They kept to themselves on their ten-mile estate. So what sparked this sudden interest   
in the Underground's seized Pokémon? Giovanni frowned.   
  
"Um, Boss? Is that what you needed?" Butch asked nervously. Giovanni got a mental picture of him   
shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, waiting for the reprimand to come.   
  
"Yes. Yes, that's what I was looking for. But…" he scanned his mind for any possible connection   
between the Kojiros and the Underground. Licking his lips, he continued. "I need something else from   
you, now, Kosaburo. I still want those Pokémon. You get into the Kojiro mansion and bring them to me."  
  
"Sure, Boss. But… won't there be some sort of security sys…"  
  
"Bypass security. Blow the damned house up. I want those Pokémon. Understand?"   
  
"Alright, I guess…"  
  
"Good." Giovanni hung up the phone. Although the Pokémon were no longer that important since Oak's   
and Ketchum's weren't included, he felt it was now personal. He wanted those Pokémon, if just for the   
principle of having them.  
  
He always got what he wanted.  
  
  
  
  
The day had suddenly turned very cold. Misty pulled her jacked closed and buried her nose in its soft   
collar. Her mittened hands were quickly numbing despite the thick layer of wool protecting them. She   
shivered violently and cursed Vermilion for being on the sea. Damned unpredictable weather patterns, she   
thought. Damned ocean. She scowled over the collar of her jacket, scanning the sky. It seemed that the   
low, oppressive clouds had sprung up out of nowhere, frustrated and pregnant with snow.  
  
Vermilion usually didn't get snow this early in the winter. It was mid-November now. It seemed that the   
weather had become bored with fall and gone straight to the good bits. She stomped her feet on the cracked   
pavement and shoved her hands into her pockets, leaning out and looking further down the street. The city   
bus wasn't due for another five minutes, but she was impatient and cold. She wanted it here, now.  
  
She blinked rapidly, the cold stinging in her eyes. She had decided against admitting her…   
transgressions… to the boys. They had been so happy to see her there with all six Pokéballs in tow. She   
shook her head. Maybe it was better that they didn't know. It seemed like Ash already had problems   
trusting people, and Gary was so protective of him. She didn't know what they would do if they found out.   
  
And that poor Jessie, she thought. It appeared that she had been completely devastated by the raid. She   
hadn't unlocked her bedroom door all morning, and periodically Misty caught the sound of sobbing   
emanating from her direction. All in all, she'd felt pretty uncomfortable there.  
  
Gary had offered to let her stay with them in Jessie's apartment. He claimed it was for moral support, but   
from the way he had raised his eyebrows—and the way that Ash had blushed somewhat furiously and   
concentrated intently on his coffee cup—she had a feeling that there was some innuendo flying about.  
  
She had declined Gary's offer, only again realizing halfway to the bus stop that she was quite likely in   
danger of unlocking her apartment and finding half a dozen thugs in her kitchen. Oh well, she thought.   
Fate's going to have to save me from this one. She glanced up, checking for the bus again.   
  
Instead of a diesel-fueled giant, though, a black van whistled to a stop in front of her. She recognized the   
make and model, and even the paint job. She drew her breath in sharply, beating herself mentally for not   
expecting this. Backing up quickly, she broke into a breathless run and darted into an alley, her shoes   
slapping on the pavement and the bones in her feet aching from the cold.  
  
She realized a moment later that this was the worst thing that she could have done. She had run into a   
deserted alley between two office buildings on a Saturday afternoon. And it was a dead end.   
  
She screamed briefly as two rough arms encircled her, grabbing at her jacket and pulling her backwards.   
She felt the bite of a needle entering her skin at the base of her neck where the thug had pulled her jacket   
back. As consciousness became more and more of a struggle, the word "screwed" drifted through her   
mind.   
  
  
Ash tore at a bag of Poké-treats with his teeth, Vulpix watching in rapt fascination from between his knees.   
She hopped from on foot to another excitedly, whimpering slightly, impatient in the promise of a snack.   
  
"Calm down, girl," Ash said, pulling at the tear he had started. The bag ripped down the center, spilling its   
contents on the floor.  
  
"Vul!" the little Pokémon shouted as she chased the scattering Pokéball-shaped treats, sucking up every   
one she could find.   
  
Ash groaned. "Hold on, Vulpix, you can't eat all of them. You'll get sick…" he tried to gather up as many   
as he could, the fox racing him to each one. He dropped a handful back in the bag and brushed his hands   
off, shifting his weight to stand up. The Pokémon gave him a quizzical look, as if asking him why he   
wasn't giving her the treat. "You already ate more than you should have!"   
  
Her look didn't waver. But you didn't give them to me, her eyes smiled innocently. Please? Ash sighed   
and grabbed a couple more treats from the bag, offering them on an outstretched palm. The little fire-fox   
barked happily, swallowed the treats, and bounced into the next room, glancing over her shoulder to make   
sure Ash was following. He clipped the bag shut and tossed it on the counter, submitting to the Pokémon's   
request to play. For having just been released from the Pokémon Center, and after losing so much blood,   
she certainly was energetic. Her recovery was more than what they could have hoped for, and new fur had   
already begun to fill in the areas that had been shaved to clear her cuts. She must have missed him.   
  
In Jessie's living room, the little red fox jumped in circles and darted under the coffee table, growling   
joyfully. Ash dropped to his hands and knees and stuck his head under the table. "Boo!" he said. Vulpix   
barked, enthralled, and ran under a chair.   
  
"Havin' fun?" a voice said. Ash jumped, startled, smacking his head against the table he was still partway   
under.  
  
"Mew's tail, Gary, why do you always sneak up on me like that?" Ash whined, dragging himself clear of   
the offending coffee table and rubbing the lump on his head.  
  
"It's not that I sneak up on you, it's because you're so moody and introspective that you never hear me."   
He smirked, dropping onto the couch. Vulpix emerged from her chair-fortress and trotted up to Ash,   
curling up in his lap. "That girl really likes you, doesn't she?" Gary remarked, leaning back.  
  
"Yeah. You'd think that after the little training incident that she would have lost faith in me," Ash said,   
scratching his pet's ears.  
  
Gary smirked wider. "I didn't mean the Pokémon." Ash shot him an evil look. "Okay, okay." His smiled   
faded slightly, his eyes clouding with concern. "You know, Ash, not everyone stops trusting someone   
because they made one mistake. It was just… bad judgement on your part. And look, everything turned   
out okay."  
  
"I could have prevented it. It was a stupid mistake…"  
  
"But that's what it was, a mistake! You have to stop continuously punishing yourself for making them.   
Nobody's perfect."   
  
"I almost *killed* her, Gary!" Ash was shouting now. He rose to his feet, and Vulpix backed off   
nervously. "My mistake almost killed her, just like *my* mistake killed Pikachu!" He breathed heavily,   
his fists clenched.   
  
Gary stared at him for a moment, speechless. "Ash…" he started, softly. "You did *not* kill that   
Pokémon. It was not your fault. You were just a kid…"  
  
"A kid who should have known better. I knew the rules, I broke them, and Pikachu paid for it." His tone   
was sharp and pained, and sown with longing. He squeezed his eyes closed, then started for the door,   
calling his Vulpix after him. "I'm going to go for a walk. I'll be back later." He pulled on his jacket   
silently and clipped a leash on his Pokémon's collar. The two walked out the door together, the fox's eyes   
fastened on her master's face.  
  
  
Misty choked her tears back, clenching her jaw. She would not cry, she would *not* cry… Giovanni sat   
behind his desk, his face contorted with a rare smile. The scene was painfully familiar. Misty bit her   
bottom lip as hard as she could, choosing to concentrate on the pain rather than crying. Her throat felt   
swollen and raw.   
  
"I'm very glad you've chosen to be so helpful, Miss Waterflower," the man sneered, reaching in a drawer   
for a cigar. "All said and done, this could have been a… messy process. But I see you can view this from   
the correct point of view." He clipped off the end of the brown cylinder with a shearing sound that sent   
shivers down Misty's spine.   
  
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, glancing guiltily at the piece of paper that was the antagonist   
of all of these horrible feelings. Her neat handwriting taunted her, the address dancing on the page. "Yes,   
sir," she said meekly. The big man smiled again, flicking open his lighter. The flint chinked loudly, then   
sparked up. The dusty, sweet smell of tobacco smoke curled in cloudy fingers from his mouth as he   
inhaled lazily. Misty cast her vision to her hands again. They were still shaking from the sedatives that   
had been injected into her. Her neck and shoulder ached from where the liquid had been forced.   
  
She hated this job.  
  
  
Ash sat on the end of a breakwall, his feet suspended half a foot above the water level. The cement of the   
wall was cold and damp, but Ash was too consumed with thought to care much about physical comfort.   
Self-hatred and pity coursed through his veins, his exhausted mind and body unable to fight off the flood of   
grief that swelled through him. The water slapped at the wall beneath his feet, breaking the silence of a   
world anticipating snow. A few random flakes drifted from the heavy clouds, dissolving silently into the   
water, unnoticed by the waves.   
  
Vulpix pushed into Ash's side. Her eyes had not left his face since his outburst in the apartment. She   
almost seemed to understand. Nuzzling under his arm, the fox whined quietly and rested her chin against   
his chest. She seemed to feel the tension in him, the fear, the void of loss.  
  
Ash's eyes stared blankly at the unbroken horizon. The water was a dull blackish color dashed with small   
bursts of white where the waves had broken and their remaining froth slowly fizzled away. The quiet   
complaint of his companion finally turned his attentions elsewhere. He rested a hand on her soft coat,   
giving her an empty smile. Snowflakes caught in her whiskers as she searched out his eyes.  
  
They were beautiful eyes, Ash thought, so black and clear. So innocent, so trusting. He brought his hand   
to her chin, scratching her neck. "It's okay, Vulpix," he lied. "I'm fine." He heard steps crunching on the   
frosted gravel behind him and turned around sharply, ready to go on the defense.   
  
A tall, lean figure approached, huddled under an old oilskin trench coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck   
and his hands thrust deep into his pockets.   
  
Ash turned back around, looking at the water beneath his feet. "Hey, Gary."  
  
"I was worried about you. I figured you'd end up here sooner or later." They had spent countless nights in   
this same spot, empty beer bottles scattered on the ground, trying to be philosophical despite their   
inebriation. Those evenings always ended in deep thought, self-examination, and, more often than not, an   
uncomfortable night spent on the bathroom floor.  
  
Ash nodded, inspecting his rapidly numbing fingers. "I just… I wanted to think for a while."  
  
Gary sank to the wall next to him, sitting with his back to the seascape that Ash had been studying so   
intently. "I'd have thought you would have outgrown that thinking phase by now, Ashy-boy," Gary said,   
hoping to keep the conversation from becoming dark again. Ash silently pulled a small flask from his   
pocket, shook it at his friend, and nestled it back in its hiding place. "Ahh," Gary said, dryly. "That kind   
of thinking."  
  
Ash responded with an unenthusiastic grunt, then looked back out over the water. Gary sighed and looked   
down at his lap. "Ash, come back to the apartment. It's friggin' freezing. We're wanted by the police and   
being stalked by Team Rocket. I don't think this is the best place to be right now." He glanced around,   
watching for dark forms in alleys or the lights of squad cars in the distance.   
  
Ash sighed and pulled himself to his feet. "'Kay. 'S kinda cold out here, anyway."  
  
  
Jessie's sulking was interrupted when heart jumped as she heard something crack against her front door.   
She unlocked her bedroom door and stuck her head out for a second, then swore softly.  
  
  
The thin wooden door splintered under the weight of a fire axe. The tip of the blade protruded through the   
sheet of wood for a second, then was pulled back to again crackle through the door. Voices spoke quietly   
on the handle side of the axe as it rested in the door for a brief moment. A few more blows left a hole large   
enough for a man's arm to reach through and undo the bolt. The door swung inward with a quiet sigh as   
four pairs of heavy footsteps spread throughout the apartment.  
  
"Clear!" came a voice from the kitchen. "Nothin' in here or the livin' room!"  
  
Another set of footsteps approached the closet doors. They creaked open unpleasantly. "Sonofa… nothin'   
here neither."  
  
Yet another set of footsteps made their way to the door to Jessie's bedroom. The door glided open easily to   
reveal an empty room, save for a Meowth sitting on the bed, glaring at the intruder with doom in its eyes.   
The heavy boots proceeded to systematically check the room and adjoining bathroom. The voice   
connected to the footsteps sighed. "Nothing. Nobody's here."  
  
  
Jessie was set gently to the ground by a pair of leafy vines. She turned and aimed the Pokéball at the fire   
escape outside her bedroom window and called, "Victreebell, return!" She shivered through her sweatshirt   
and clipped the Pokéball to her belt under its bulky, comfortable waistline. Brushing an errant strand of her   
hair behind an ear, she trotted to the end of the alley and looked around the corner. A large black van was   
parked in front of her building. A man stood leaning against its side, picking at his leather gloves and   
sneezing at the snowflakes accumulating in his thick eyebrows.   
  
Damn, she thought, and ducked back into the alley. Pulling her hands into her sleeves, she headed to the   
opposite end of the alley and fished a cell phone out of her pocket. She punched the numbers in without   
removing her hands from her sleeves, making her dialing clumsy. When she held the phone to her ear, she   
cringed at the coldness of the earpiece.  
  
"Ash Ketchum."  
  
"Ash! It's me, it's Jessie." She glanced both ways around the corner before venturing out of the alley,   
hoping Team Rocket didn't have anyone watching this street, too.   
  
"Jess… what's wrong?"   
  
"Where are you? Is Gary there?" She spotted a coffee shop down the street and headed towards it, her   
teeth chattering.  
  
"Yeah, he's right here. What's going on?"  
  
"Don't go back to the apartment. I just had to climb out the fire escape, Team Rocket knows you were   
there." Sloshing through the mush of early snow, she trotted across the street, trying not to slip.   
Breathless, she ducked in the door of the coffee shop and paused, panting softly from the cold.  
  
Ash was quiet for a moment. "Shit," he breathed. "Hold on for a sec." She heard him relay the message to   
his companion.  
  
"Impressive," she heard Gary whistle. "We're real big-time fugitives now, huh?"  
  
Ash said something she couldn't make out, then returned to the phone. "Are you okay, Jess? Where are   
you now?"  
  
She stepped through the door again and glanced at the name painted on the awning. "I'm at May's on Fire   
Stone. Are you guys coming here?"  
  
Ash said something aside to Gary again, and then: "Yeah, we'll be there in about ten, fifteen minutes.   
Don't go anywhere without us, okay?"  
  
"Okay," she said, sighing, her jaw shaking with cold. She pushed the end button and opened the door to   
the coffee shop again, desperate for something to warm her hands up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
James sat alone in the sunroom, watching as the snow fell and melted on the hot glass. The drops   
congregated together as they rolled lazily down the windows. The room resounded with a throbbing sort of   
deafness, something that only seemed to come on when the air, the ground, the world was thick with snow.   
The flakes came down thick and wet now, clinging to anything they touched, desperately grasping the   
sagging branches of the bare, black trees.   
  
He sighed and sank further into his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His vision blurred as his mind   
flitted from one painful thought to the next, the images leaving him empty and aching for redemption.  
  
It was his fault that he felt this way, completely his fault. He couldn't blame it on anyone but himself. He   
should have never agreed with his parents and married 'Belle. She was too different from him, too…  
  
The words "shallow" and "self-obsessed" came to mind very quickly, but he scolded himself and pushed   
them aside, reaching instead for "differently motivated." He tried to stop himself from hating her, tried to   
focus on the ten years he had spent happily oblivious. It wasn't her fault she was the way she was. Blame   
it on society.  
  
He kicked at the foot of a coffee table next to him, hating himself. Why had he allowed himself to do this?   
Didn't he know it was a bad idea? Didn't he realize how much this would screw up Jessie's life? What a   
ass he had been!   
  
He had done the right thing, he knew. There was no way he would see Jessie's life be put in jeopardy over   
his feelings for her. She should never have been put into that situation in the first place. He should have   
known better. In the back of his mind, the memories of his parents chided him, laughing at him, jeering his   
lack of willingness to be society's lap dog.   
  
He'd tried to fit in for a while. For eighteen years of his life. It had taken Jessie's influence to show him   
how empty those eighteen years had been. What was he living for? For the money? For the sole reason   
that he was there? He couldn't even call this living, it was more of an oblivious existence shrouded in   
refusal to recognize the shallowness of the world he was in.   
  
He couldn't even keep a picture of her. God, how he missed her. It seemed like years, decades since   
they'd been together, when it was only last night. Last night…  
  
It was a night of dreams, last night.  
  
Then came early this morning.   
  
And now, here he was, sitting alone in a sunroom so full of dry, compressed heat that it made his eyes itch.  
  
He wanted out. Out of his life. He could just leave here, travel, maybe.  
  
He put that thought out of his mind. Jessibelle would never let him go off and travel by himself for long   
periods of time. It wasn't proper, and if a couple was separated for that long, people started gossiping   
about the state of their marital bliss.  
  
He could just run off, like a child running away from home. That was a bad idea, too. He knew 'Belle   
would immediately assume he was off with Jess, and then…  
  
His heart started beating faster as he realized that he could take her with him. They could leave this place,   
strand 'Belle in her vicious little world of other people's sharp tongues and opinions. They would be   
happy. He would leave his past in this huge old brick mansion so full of empty, loveless objects purchased   
only for show; he would leave his family name behind him and be happy for once in his life.  
  
He reached for the phone on the coffee table and dialed Jessie's number. They would make plans   
immediately.   
  
  
  
  
Misty sat forlornly in the back of a Rocket van. It was one of the first times in quite a while that she had   
worn the Rocket uniform, and black was not her color. The short-cropped Team shirt draped over her   
white turtleneck; its sharp and stubborn shape was very out of place on her small, slender body. She pulled   
her jacket tighter around her and rested her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, idly brushing a   
strand of her hair behind her ear.   
  
Due to her willingness to betray her friends' positions, the Boss had decided that she would be of further   
use to him in the future. He had assigned her guards in case she decided against behaving. One sat on each   
side of her, sullen and looming, each one roughly twice her size.  
  
She shifted uncomfortably, her uniform starched and scratchy against her skin. The inside of the van was   
dark, the fading light of sunset muted by the thick snowflakes that were playing through the air. The   
absence of windows on the back three-quarters of the van further dimmed the light, burying the two thugs   
and the small girl, as well as two more thugs in the seat behind them, in a dirty, cold darkness.  
  
The men on either side of her were painfully close, their thick arms folded and their elbows threatening to   
smash into her ears if a sudden stop was made. She edged forward on her seat, trying to escape their   
ominous presence. They shot her suspicious glares, and one of them grabbed her arm and pulled her back.   
She growled and wrestled out of his grasp, crossing her arms and flinging herself back on the seat. The   
man on her left chuckled a little. Misty felt her face flush.  
  
Glancing out one of the front windows, she noticed that they were now in rural Vermilion, not very far   
from where the Underground's warehouse had been. She wondered what Team Rocket could want here; all   
there was for several miles were homes and the occasional grocery or convenience store.   
  
One of the thugs grumbled something to the other as the van slowed. It fishtailed slightly as it turned   
sharply into a parking lot. Misty caught a quick glimpse of a sign, and she repressed an audible moan.  
  
That bastard, she thought.   
  
  
It had been a horribly busy day. There was a festival next week, a festival centered on a series of Pokémon   
shows, all combined to become the premier Pokémon show in the world. It was a huge event for any   
Pokémon breeder, a chance to show off their best and most beautiful, a chance to make a name for their   
breeding center.  
  
Joy smiled weakly as the vidscreen snapped to black. Another transfer of Pokémon was coming through.   
This had been her entire day. The breeders were sending their Pokémon ahead to the center to check them   
over before the show. The breeders themselves would travel by train, car, or foot. Generally, if one was   
travelling, Pokémon were sent ahead to the next Pokémon center to prevent the risk of thievery on the trip.   
  
There had been over a hundred transfers that day, and there were ten more lined up before the center's   
Pokéball transfer systems would shut off for the night. Joy had received around six hundred Pokémon   
since five this morning, with over a thousand sorted and stacked in the walk-in vault from the past few   
days' transfers. She was grateful that today was the last day they would accept mass transfers, although   
tomorrow all of those thousand Pokémon had to be checked out and health-certified. That would be even   
more work than today had been.  
  
Joy groaned as she sank into the chair next to the transfer console for what seemed like the first time today.   
And she doubted whether she would sleep much tonight, either, due to stress, the ache in her shoulders and   
legs, and Brock. One could never forget Brock when calculating how much sleep one would get. She   
could subtract at least an hour or so there...  
  
Despite her cheerful and giving disposition, Joy considered killing the next person who spoke to her. Or   
looked at her. Or even entered the Pokémon Center. She whimpered quietly and rested her head against   
the transfer machine, waiting for the next group to come through.  
  
She looked up as she heard the doors whir open out front. She pulled herself to her feet wearily and   
trudged towards the front desk, hoping it wasn't an emergency. God willing, it would just be some little   
kid and a Spearow that needed vaccinations or something. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before   
pushing through the doors, and tried to gather up as much patience and pleasantry as she could.   
  
  
Team Rocket very quietly and efficiently spread itself through the hallways of the Pokémon Center. The   
Nurse Joy was locked in an empty examination room, sedated and limp. There was no one else at the   
Center. The police had not been alerted, the newspapers would not know of the heist until late the next   
morning when the city noticed its Pokémon Center was not functioning, nor even open.   
  
Giovanni smirked, his eyes half-closed in contentment, as he stalked towards the vault where the   
transferred Pokémon were kept. Joy might have left it open due to the number of transfers coming through   
so she could store the Pokeballs easily. Even if it were locked, it wouldn't be too hard to blast through it.   
Sure, a few of the Pokéballs—and, respectively, the Pokémon contained within—would be taken out by the   
explosion, but in the end he would still be left with an entire vault full of very expensive Pokémon.  
  
In themselves, they were no use to him. Breeders' show animals were worth a lot of money, but they could   
not be sold in Kanto for fear of recognition. He believed that, in the end, he would ship the lot of them to   
Johto and sell them there, if just to keep up appearances.   
  
This was not a heist to steal Pokémon, although it held every pretense of being one. This was a foolproof   
way of luring Oak and Ketchum to him. He turned a corner, the group of thugs following behind him, and   
saw the vault's door shut and locked. He paused and licked his teeth, then turned. "Where's that   
Waterflower girl?"  
  
"Right here, boss," one of the thugs replied. The group parted and allowed the man through, dragging the   
girl roughly behind him. Misty stumbled through the crowd, trying to keep her balance as she was pulled   
along. The thug swung her in front of him and held her arms. Giovanni glanced down at her. She was tiny   
in comparison to the large man, her thin, pale arms and neck glowing in contrast to the black Rocket   
uniform.   
  
Giovanni rolled a fresh, unlit cigar thoughtfully between his forefinger and thumb, studying her. "You   
have their number, girl?"  
  
"Yes, Boss," Misty said through clenched teeth. If she wanted to live through this, she had to cooperate.   
But that didn't necessarily mean she had to be friendly about it. She tried to reach for her cell phone, but   
her arms were still held by the thug. She bared her teeth and maneuvered her right foot between the thug's   
legs.  
  
With a swift, sharp kick upward, the man yelped in pain and released his grip on Misty's arms. She took a   
calm step forward and scrolled through her cell phone's address book.   
  
She hated herself for this, but she hated herself for her actions in the past few months anyway. She figured   
that if she was going to hate herself, she may as well keep herself alive while doing it. The number came   
up on the phone's little screen. She stared at it for a moment before pushing the send button. Her eyes on   
the ground, she handed the phone to her boss.  
  
  
The two boys appeared, Gary stalking through the streets as if he were a completely legal, unwanted,   
upright citizen, and Ash following glancing nervously behind him. It was characteristic of the two, Jessie   
thought, Gary not taking the threat of imprisonment—or worse, if Team Rocket got to them first—  
seriously, and Ash making it out to be even more than it was.   
  
Although, she thought, if he's going to overreact, this is certainly an appropriate situation to do so. She   
stood up as they pushed through the coffee shop's doors and stomped the snow off of their shoes. Ash   
pushed past Gary, who was brushing snow off of his coat, and buried himself in Jessie's arms. The girl   
took a step backwards, surprised.  
  
Ash seemed to sense her hesitancy, and released her, muttering a half-hearted apology before asking, "Are   
you okay?"  
  
She nodded. Gary shook the last clump of clingy slush from his shoulders and started in, oblivious. "Let's   
get a back booth," he said, unwinding his scarf and shaking it out. He tucked it back around his neck,   
continuing, barely glancing at the two awkward forms next to him and starting towards the back of the   
small restaurant. "We've got some talking to do."   
  
Ash rolled his eyes and followed. When Gary was upset, his overbearing and controlling side took the   
helm. But he often solved problems more quickly and efficiently that way, and for that he was willing to   
tolerate his friend's personality flaws.  
  
Jessie followed numbly. Her mind had ceased to function. She had felt herself shut down as realization   
struck her. She slid into the booth next to Ash, her eyes glazed over as the day's traumas finally took hold   
of her mind.  
  
James was gone. She didn't know what she had done to spark this sudden withdrawal from her, she'd   
thought that they were… fine. Not fine. Great. Incredible. In love. Together for eternity and longer, if   
the gods would allow it. And now… She briefly checked in to the boys' conversation next to her.   
Uninterested, she zoned back out.  
  
Her apartment. She didn't even have anywhere to sleep. With Ash and Gary on the run from both the law   
and Team Rocket, and with her helping them, she was also in danger. She pushed the thoughts of James   
aside for now. She would have to deal with that later. Right now, her life was on the line. Still dazed, she   
stared at the front of the coffee shop, at the street outside. In the soft gray light of the late autumn moon,   
the snow fell thicker, washing the city in a muddy off-white blanket.   
  
Ash was poking her arm. "Hmm?" she said, looking up.  
  
"Were you listening, Jess?" he asked, looking slightly concerned.   
  
"Not really, sorry. I was thinking… why?"  
  
Gary and Ash exchanged a brief glance, and then Gary spoke. "You're going to have to get a hotel room.   
Okay? And use an alias."  
  
She blinked, realizing that she must have missed an entire conversation. "Oh… okay, I guess. Where are   
you going?"  
  
The boys shared another worried look. Gary opened his mouth to speak again when Ash's phone began to   
ring. The boy looked confused for a moment, and pulled it out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment   
as it rang again, and looked at the other boy, uncertain. Gary nodded slightly. Ash pushed a button and   
held the phone up to his ear.  
  
"Hello? Ketchum here…"   
  
His eyes widened as the voice on the line spoke to him. He was silent for a moment as the voice continued   
in a short monologue, and then hung up. Ash held the phone in his hand and stared at it, astounded. His   
arm began shaking.  
  
Gary's commanding, domineering tone completely faded as he watched his friend seemingly dissolve   
before him. He spoke, quietly: "…Ash? Who was that?"  
  
Ash stared at the phone for another moment, and then looked up. "Jessie, go to a hotel. I'll call you later   
and make sure you're okay. Gary, we have to go. Now." He almost shoved Jessie out of the booth as he   
forced his way out. He headed for the door or the coffee shop, his companions still staring after him.   
  
Gary stood slowly, watching Ash make his way through the restaurant. He glanced at Jessie, his familiar,   
cocky self returning slowly. "Later," he said to her, raising his eyebrows, and trotted after his friend.  
  
Jessie sighed. Sometimes it seemed like that boy was only happy if he was in trouble.  
  
  
"It was WHO?" Gary practically shouted, stopping in his tracks. The people on the sidewalk walking   
behind him swore quietly and stepped around him, shooting the boy nasty looks. Ash glanced around, his   
fear returning for a second. He grabbed his friend's arm and dragged him out of the way, into the entrance   
of an alley.   
  
"Watch it," Ash whispered fiercely. "We're trying to be inconspicuous here."  
  
"Sorry, sorry," the boy said, and lowered his tone. "It was Giovanni? *The* Giovanni? Like, Team   
Rocket I'm-gonna-kill-you-if-you-cross-me Giovanni?"  
  
Ash nodded.  
  
"Shit. How did he get your number?"  
  
"I… I didn't ask. He just said…"  
  
"Don't you think that's a little weird, that he'd just *have* your cell number?"  
  
"Gary, that's not the point! Do you want to hear what he told me or not?"   
  
Taking Gary's silence as an affirmative, Ash continued. "He… he's at the Pokémon Center out by Route   
13. The one all the transfers go through. He's taken over the place, and he said… he said that if we didn't   
want all those hundreds of Pokémon breeders to lose their best Pokémon that we would get there within an   
hour. He didn't say why or anything, just to be there."  
  
For once, Gary was speechless. Ash spoke again. "I don't know how you feel about this, but I don't care if   
it's a trap or not. I don't want those people to go through what… what I went through when… I'm not   
going to let him take those Pokémon. I couldn't live with that on my conscience, knowing that I made…   
made all those people… I just have to try. I have to at least try."  
  
Gary took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He lowered his head, thinking. "You know I'll go with   
you, Ketchum," he said, his eyes still on the soggy ground.   
  
"You don't have to. I can do this by myself."  
  
"Do what? What are you going to do, barge in there with a pointed stick?"  
  
Ash bit his lip and reached up to his belt. He unhooked his single Pokeball and held it in his hand,   
watching the soft illumination from the street lights pool across its surface. The smooth material reflected   
his face back up at him.   
  
"Ash, no. She's not trained."  
  
"I can feel it, Gary. She understands now. Before, with the accident… she thought it was playing. But she   
knows now." The boy's eyes never left the Pokéball as he spoke.   
  
Gary swallowed hard. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat. His fist closed around a small,   
grooved metallic box. It was cool to his touch, and vibrated slightly from the power emanating from inside   
it. "I… actually, I thought that maybe you… would eventually… need this." He pulled the small article   
from his pocket.   
  
Ash's mouth gaped slightly as Gary pushed the box into his hand. He stared at it for a moment. "Is   
this…?"  
  
"It's Fire Blast. I found it last year. I didn't think we'd ever need to use it, though..."   
  
Ash studied the smooth, polished-metal box. On a small, raised, Pokéball-shaped circle in the center, "TM   
38" was printed. When Pokémon training was outlawed, all TMs that the government could find were   
destroyed. They were incredibly rare, almost impossible to find on the black market, and when you   
actually did find one, they were ridiculously expensive. Ash himself had never used a TM, nor even owned   
one. And for a TM like Fire Blast, the only fire-type TM in all of Kanto, it went unsaid that Gary had paid   
an incredible amount of money for it. "I… I can't take this," Ash said quietly, holding the TM reverently.  
  
"You have to. I have six high-level Pokémon on my team, Ash, and you have one young Vulpix. It's   
yours."  
  
Ash sighed softly, and then held up his Pokéball. "Vulpix," he called quietly. The small fox materialized   
on the ground in front of him, melting the snow around her with the aura of heat she gave off. She looked   
up at her master, her eyes immediately locking on his. Leading the Pokémon behind a row of garbage cans,   
Ash looked at his friend again. "Are you sure you want me to use this?"  
  
"I… it's yours, Ash. There's very little choice in the matter. She needs a strong move like that, and you   
don't have the time to bring her level up enough for her to learn one the natural way. Just… do it before I   
change my mind."  
  
Ash nodded and knelt by his Pokémon. She looked at him quizzically, cocking her head. He glanced back   
up at Gary, who smiled briefly. Taking a deep breath, Ash cracked open the seal on the TM.  
  
Little pinpricks of a metallic, glittering substance rained onto the Pokémon's head. The tiny bio-bots   
flickered alive for a moment, and directed themselves into Vulpix's ear canal. The Pokémon sneezed and   
shook her head.   
  
It seemed almost anti-climactic. There was no spark of lightning, no lightbulb illuminating over her head   
as the bots quickly and efficiently installed memories of the move to Vulpix's brain. Ash bit his lip and   
rubbed the Pokémon's head.  
  
"Vul?"  
  
"It's okay, girl. Didn't hurt, did it?"   
  
The Pokémon sneezed in reply. Ash recalled her to the Pokéball and hooked it into his belt.   
  
"C'mon, Ash, we gotta get going. Don't wanna piss off the leader of the largest crime syndicate in the   
world, do we?" Gary started towards the street.  
  
Ash frowned slightly at the now-empty box in his hand, his stomach churning. He turned to follow his   
friend.  
  
  
  
  
Butch panted heavily as he trotted the last twenty yards to the house. He'd done all right so far—there   
were very few security measures in place on the estate, and had that surprised him quite a bit. Usually   
people with as much money as the Kojiros were slightly obsessive about security.   
  
Reaching the house, he pressed himself against the red brick wall and started edging towards the back. He   
reached the corner, and checked around it. Clear. This was going incredibly smoothly, especially for him.   
Generally, Butch's luck was… well, nonexistent. He swung himself around the corner of the house, back   
to the wall, and looked around. He could see very little through the dark and the oppressive sheath of   
falling snow. He could see a door, though faintly, and it appeared that the light in the alcove above it was   
burnt out.   
  
Perfect.  
  
He glanced around once again, and trudged his way through the rapidly accumulating snow. He mounted   
the few stairs to the door and reached for the doorknob cautiously. If the door was unlocked, he would be   
officially weirded out. He tried the knob.  
  
It clacked beneath his hand, refusing to turn.  
  
He sighed in relief and unclipped his lock-pick set from his belt.  
  
A few minutes later, he stepped into the Kojiro mansion. It was dark, almost completely black. He pulled   
out a penlight and shone it around the room. The light hit expensive, copper pans suspended on racks over   
a large, attractive counter and range top. The kitchen, he was in the kitchen. It was already eight o'clock,   
so he thought he would be relatively safe from being noticed.  
  
Unless the Kojiro family was--what was it that crazy rich people were called? --eccentric, yes, and didn't   
start making dinner until after eight.   
  
Someone with a house like this probably had a cook. And a maid, and a gardener, and probably a butler,   
too. Butch shook his head.  
  
His flashlight finally illuminated a door. He made his way through the kitchen. There wasn't any light   
coming from under the door, so it was pretty safe to assume that nobody was on the other side of it. He   
unholstered his gun anyway, and pushed through the door. The next room was huge, with a long, dark   
wood table in the middle of it. Dining room. He approached the next door, which opened out into a   
darkened hallway.   
  
Butch hmm'd in thought. Maybe nobody was home. That meant he would have to look for the Pokéballs   
the old-fashioned way.  
  
Or he could just get out his scanner.  
  
He unclipped the pocket on his belt that held the little machine. A descendant of the original Pokédex, the   
ScanDex was extremely accurate, extremely small, and extremely expensive. It was designed to locate any   
Pokémon brain wave patterns, much like the system the older Pokédexes used to identify which Pokémon   
they were being pointed at. This system was much more refined, though, and could be used to actually   
pinpoint the location of a Pokémon, even if it was in a Pokéball.   
  
Since training was outlawed, there was very little need for a system like the ScanDex, so it wasn't publicly   
released. Giovanni had commissioned the design himself from Silph Co., the business that Team Rocket   
had taken over long ago and now used as a sort of front.   
  
Butch programmed the scan quickly, and within a few seconds the little computer pinged its reply: 237   
inhabited Pokéballs, sixty-three feet ten inches southwest of his current location. He turned in the correct   
direction and walked slowly, watching the small screen as he went. Fifty-four feet. Forty-one. Thirty. He   
glanced up, and noticed he was rapidly approaching a wall. He looked for a door, and found one nearby,   
and resumed examining the screen. Thirty-five feet west, now. He passed through what appeared to be a   
grand hall of some kind, with huge staircases cascading down on both sides. He gaped for a moment at the   
sheer size of the place, then shook his head again. Their damned foyer probably cost more than his   
apartment.   
  
He looked back at the ScanDex. It was pointing him towards a door below the left stairway. He made his   
way across the open space quickly, nervous about being seen. People like this probably had really   
expensive guns, too.  
  
The door led to a small study. It looked like it could have been a cozy place, with a mahogany desk and   
plump leather chairs, and huge bookshelves lining three of the walls. The fourth wall was occupied by a   
huge fireplace, in front of which was the skin of a Johtoan Entei. It looked real.  
  
Rich people, Butch thought with disgust. Only an insane rich person would keep something like the skin of   
an incredibly rare legendary Pokémon.   
  
ScanDex aimed him at the large, ornate desk in the middle of the room. He flicked it off and replaced it in   
its satchel, and started sifting through the huge drawers in the desk.  
  
  
James shuffled down the stairs in his robe. He'd been trying to call Jessie all day, but she wasn't picking   
up at home and her cell phone didn't seem to be on. He sulked, a cloud of gloom clinging to him. He'd   
been excited with the prospect of running away with Jessie, and he was upset that they couldn't leave right   
away. He wanted to go *tonight,* wanted to be with her *now.*   
  
He stalked towards his study, hoping to maybe light a fire and look through a book. Something to raise his   
spirits a little. He sighed as he reached the ground level, absorbed in pity.   
  
He stopped short. The light was on in his study. He'd turned it off, he knew it. He was positive. Nobody   
else appeared to be up.  
  
He approached the door slowly, and reached for the knob. Cracking the door open slightly, he peered   
inside.  
  
A man was rifling through his desk.  
  
A man in a Team Rocket uniform.   
  
This was Jessibelle's doing, he thought bitterly.   
  
He watched the man collect something from his bottom drawer and put them in a small black bag.   
  
The Pokémon, James thought absently. So not only did his wife hire someone to go through his stuff, but   
that someone was taking the liberty of stealing his Pokémon. They weren't even his, and he'd spent a   
ridiculous amount of money saving them from auction. He gritted his teeth.   
  
He briefly considered barging into the room and trying to scare the man off, but he caught a glimpse of the   
man's holstered gun and thought otherwise. He took a step back from the door, bit his lip, and headed for a   
phone.   
  
If Team Rocket was after him, they would be after Jessie, too. Forget the Pokémon, he had to warn her.   
He crept through the darkness, glancing over his shoulder at intervals to assure himself there wasn't anyone   
following him with a gun pointed at his head.  
  
  
Butch had to suppress the excited yelp he felt welling up as he let himself out the back door of the Kojiro   
mansion. Everything had gone as planned, there had been no huge, painful mistakes, no police sirens, and,   
most importantly, no blasting off.   
  
He felt great. It was such a rare occasion that he did something right…  
  
He turned and closed the door behind him. Funny, he thought, the door's hinges didn't seem to be squeaky   
when he went in that way. Now it was making a low sort of groaning noise, almost like a growl.  
  
The door clacked shut, but the growling continued. Butch whimpered and turned around.  
  
"Ah, shit," he said to the large, bare-toothed Growlithe behind him. He ran.  
  
  
Jessie watched, slightly stunned, as the two boys left the coffee shop. What had just happened? She hated   
being out of the loop, and it seemed like Ash and Gary were purposely neglecting to fill her in on what was   
going on. And that phone call… She'd never seen Ash so frightened.   
  
They were nuts if they thought that she was just going to sit in a hotel room and wait for them. Something   
was happening. Something that she was no longer a part of, even though she also was in danger. Shouldn't   
she have some say in what happened if her life was involved?  
  
She sat for a moment, frustration burning in her gut. They hadn't even told her where they were going, so   
she couldn't follow them or meet them there. She was stuck, all she *could* do was wait. She kicked at a   
table leg angrily. Well, she could at least call them and let them know she was going to kill them when   
they got back.  
  
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She frowned for a moment as she realized it had been turned   
off, and hoped she hadn't missed any important calls. She pressed the power button and started plugging   
Ash's number into the phone.  
  
It rang before she could send the call. Good, maybe it was one of the boys calling to apologize and tell her   
what the hell was going on.   
  
"Jessie?"  
  
"James," she gasped. She momentarily relived their conversation earlier that morning, and prayed that this   
was not a continuation of that. Maybe he was calling to apologize…  
  
"Are you okay? I've been trying to get ahold of you all day."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Some maniacs from Team Rocket broke down my apartment door a few hours ago, but I   
got away."  
  
"…my god, that means they're already after you. Jessie, I just found a Rocket in my study, going through   
my desk. Bastard stole the Underground's Pokémon, too. I'm so sorry about this, Jess. It's my fault   
they're after you. Jessibelle…"  
  
"No, James… they were after Ash and Gary. They were looking for the boys."  
  
"The… why does Team Rocket want your friends?"  
  
Jessie frowned. "I don't know. But they said that Rocket's been watching their apartment. They weren't   
after me."  
  
Was silent for a moment. He spoke hesitantly. "Then… what were they doing going through my stuff?   
Why would 'Belle set Team Rocket on me and not you?"   
  
Jessie bit her lip. Her eyes widened slightly as she got an idea. "James… you said that the… person,   
whoever, stole the Underground's Pokémon?"  
  
"Yeah. Listen, are you going to be okay?"  
  
Jessie ignored his question and continued. "They're not after you, James. They're after the Underground!   
I bet they called the cops on us, too…"  
  
"Us? You mean you're in it, too?"  
  
Jessie paused. She had strategically avoided mentioning her own participation in the Underground when   
she had asked him for help, unsure of how he would react. "I… I should have told you right away. I'm   
sorry."  
  
The phone was silent for a moment, and then: "It's fine, Jessie. It doesn't really change anything."  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I should really tell Ash that Team Rocket stole the Pokémon. Can   
you call me back?"  
  
"Sure. Sure, I'll call you back."  
  
Jessie snapped the phone off and quickly dialed Ash's number again.  
  
  
Two gray forms stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the air and ground around them thick with snow.   
They regarded the large, well-lit building with mixed emotions. Among these, however, fear was the   
greatest. The slightly smaller, darker figure spoke. "We can't just stand out here all night. This isn't   
getting us anywhere." He took a slow step forward, but the other form grabbed his arm and held him back.  
  
"This is gonna be rough. We're not dealing with fistfights here, we're talking guns. These guys aren't   
what you'd call forgiving," said the taller, sandy-haired form. "Let's just… let's just stay out here for a   
minute. 'Kay?"  
  
The smaller boy nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets. He lifted his face up to the snow, letting the   
freezing water run down his neck. Snow was already seeping into his oversized boots, numbing his skin.   
  
"Ash?" asked the tall form after a minute.  
  
"Yeah, Gary?"  
  
"This is worth it, right? Us maybe getting killed?"  
  
Ash squinted as snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. He thought of the sheer number of Pokéballs in that   
building, the Pokémon sleeping happily inside, contentedly oblivious. He recalled the phone call he'd   
gotten not ten minutes ago, finding out that not only were all of the breeders' Pokémon in that center, but   
the Underground's as well. The image of a Persian spilling blood onto a concrete floor flashed through his   
mind, then of a small, yellow paw grasping desperately for him through the wire mesh of a cage.   
  
"I think it is."   
  
"Okay." Gary studied the building again, the Pokéball-shaped sculpture on the roof grinning maniacally   
back at him. "You know what?"  
  
"What?" Ash was still watching the sky, drinking in the uniform gray walls that surrounded the entire city.   
  
"It really sucks that you're such a sap."  
  
Ash snickered. "Gee, thanks."  
  
"No, really," Gary continued, smiling, as the two boys made their way to the building. "If you weren't   
such a wuss, we'd be hiding out at some cheesy hotel watching Skinemax. But no, you have to feed some   
sentimental value into the situation…"   
  
  
Joy's hearing was the first thing to return to her. Someone yelling. She was tired, she didn't want to listen   
to any yelling right now. Most likely it was only Brock shouting at the neighbor's Electabuzz to shut up so   
they could go back to sleep. She tried to tune it out.  
  
She very slowly realized that the voice was female. The neighbors yelling back, maybe? No, it was too   
close. Her senses were returning to her, and she noticed that she was actually quite uncomfortable, and in a   
semi-upright position. She managed to convince her eyes to open.  
  
Hmm, she thought. No, this is not home. This is… this is work, yes. I am sitting in a chair in an   
examination room in the Center. Did I fall asleep on the job? And what on earth is that girl doing banging   
on the door like that?  
  
As Joy's brain began to shed the effects of the sedative, her memory began to click into action, too. The   
front door opening. Big men dressed in black. Grabbing her. A needle. She squinted. Her mind was   
almost thawed. As the last bits of haze dropped from her thoughts, Joy studied the room, deciding that she   
needed to solve the problem, whatever that was.   
  
First line of business was to calm down the young girl who seemed to be *very* upset about being on this   
side of the door. "Excuse me, miss," Joy said, sitting up slowly. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Oh, you're awake," said the girl, momentarily pausing in her assault on the door. She turned and leaned   
against it, growling softly to herself.  
  
Joy glanced around the room again. "I'm sorry, but I seem to be a bit confused…"  
  
The girl snorted and crossed her arms. She didn't seem very friendly. "Prepare for trouble," she sneered.   
Joy noticed the girl's clothes, black over white with the red Rocket emblem. She guessed that there was a   
complicated story behind this somewhere.  
  
"Could you tell me what's going on, please?" she prodded further, summoning all the patience she had left   
in her.   
  
The girl kicked at the door with her heel. "Team Rocket's stealing your Pokémon. And they don't trust   
me. So we get to have quiet time." She huffed and slid down the wall, gathering her knees up to her chest   
and wrapping her arms around them.   
  
Joy frowned reservedly. "Oh, dear," she said. "I suppose this is bad."  
  
The girl shot her a dirty look, then raked her hand through her short red hair and scratched the back of her   
neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is."  
  
Good, the girl was calming down. Joy decided she should keep her talking before she decided to go back   
to flinging herself at the door. "What's your name, dear?" she said pleasantly, hoping the girl would   
respond in kind.   
  
"Misty. I suppose your name is Joy, right?"  
  
"Yes. How did you know?" Joy asked.  
  
"Intuition," Misty replied, resting her forehead on her knees. "I'm smart like that."  
  
Joy pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, her head already starting to ache. She was surprised when   
the girl spoke again.  
  
"It's my fault. I'm sorry."  
  
Joy blinked. "Excuse me, dear? What was that?"  
  
"It's my fault that this is happening. I… I'm sorry." The girl studied the floor, chewing on her lip. "I'm   
sorry."  
  
Breathing deeply, the older woman felt a sudden urge to lunge at Misty's throat. She mentally scolded   
herself. "I'm sure you are, but it would be a lot easier for me to forgive you if I knew exactly *why* this is   
your fault."  
  
Misty's voice took on a softer, pensive tone. "I… I was supposed to join the Underground Pokémon   
League, as a sort of a spy, I guess. For some reason the Boss has it in for the two guys who run it. They're   
supposed to be on their way right now. Giovanni is threatening to kill off the transferred Pokémon you   
have here if they don't show up soon, and one of the guys is an incredible sap when it comes to this kind of   
stuff. I know he'll come, and he'll drag Gary with him. If they die, it's my… it'll be my fault." Her voice   
quivered as she spoke, betraying the tears she was trying so desperately to hold back.  
  
Joy was silent for a moment, watching the girl. She knew Ash and Gary in passing—they'd been in with   
that Vulpix two weeks ago—and they were both nice boys as far as she could tell, although she didn't   
condone their practices. She watched as Misty's composure crumbled and the girl cried openly.   
  
Joy pulled herself shakily to her feet, still fighting off the effects of the sedatives, and approached the girl,   
kneeling next to her shaking form. She rested a hand on Misty's shoulder in comfort. "Hey, it's alright.   
You may not be able to fix what you've done in the past, but you can at least keep faith in your friends.   
I'm sure they'll be okay."  
  
The girl snuffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sighing out a shuddering breath. "But what if they're   
not?"  
  
  
James' car fishtailed as he made a left on Reed Street and pulled up to the curb. His mind registered the   
"No Parking" sign casually as he climbed out of his car. Trying to appear less eager than he was, he   
headed towards the doors of the small pastry shop Jessie had told him to meet her at. He didn't get very far   
before Jessie shot through the door of the shop and into his arms, just barely avoiding knocking him   
backward into the snow.   
  
They held each other for a moment, silent. James spoke quietly. "To the airport?" He felt Jessie's arms   
tighten around him for a moment. Then:  
  
"To the airport, James." She released him and giggled as he escorted her to his car.   
  
A brief phone conversation, and the arrangements had been made. She had eagerly agreed with his plan to   
leave town, excited by the idea of running from the lives they had here and starting fresh. He'd told her   
about Jessibelle's refusal to divorce, and apologized profusely for their conversation earlier that day. She'd   
forgiven him willingly enough.   
  
James had managed to remain remarkably calm. He didn't actually believe this was happening; instead, he   
convinced himself it was a dream, the perfect scenario playing in his mind.  
  
Almost perfect. A marriage certificate with his and Jessibelle's name on it danced around in his mind,   
laughing at him. His one final conflict. He loved Jessie and wanted very much to put a ring on her finger,   
if only to finalize their love.   
  
Dammit, he thought. She still manages to find a way to screw me over…  
  
He would find a way, he told himself.   
  
  
The two boys clasped hands briefly before taking the final steps towards the door of the Center. There was   
a sense of finality to their handshake, a commitment to what they were about to do. They had no idea what   
lay beyond the doors, whether Team Rocket planned to gun them down as they entered the building, or if   
Giovanni had more elaborate plans for them. Either way, they were in this together.   
  
As they turned back towards the door, Ash's thoughts went to the tight leather holster on his left calve.   
There was only one Pokéball clipped there, next to a small hunting knife, but he felt an almost   
overwhelming sense of connection with the small fox inside. Somehow, he felt she knew this was   
important to him.   
  
The boys had no plan. They had no clever plot to get them out of this. They would go in there and do what   
needed to be done in a possibly vain attempt to save a lot of Pokémon trainers a *lot* of pain and grief.   
They would die if that turned out to be what Fate had decided should happen. Ash Ketchum faced off with   
destiny with the image of a paw desperately reaching out to him. Gary saw only his best friend's eight   
years of desperation, loneliness, and inconsolable grief, something he felt nobody should have to suffer   
through.   
  
They shared a quick, nervous glance as they approached the doors. Their eyes set, they took the last step   
simultaneously. The doors whispered open, and they stepped through the doorway.  
  
  
Hands grabbed at any readily available appendages and held them fast. Gary struggled for a moment, but   
was quickly subdued, while Ash seemed almost in a trance. He hardly noticed the large men wrenching his   
arms behind his back and shoving him towards one of the waiting areas that flanked the lobby of the   
Center. Gary growled and shoved back, his strong will lashing out as the thugs kept him easily in check.   
  
Giovanni was standing, watching the snow storm outside the window slowly dissipate into nothing more   
than a thin, cold mist. He chuckled as he heard the scuffle approach behind him, and turned to face the   
boys.  
  
"Well, aren't we making a big scene, hmm?" he said, flicking the ash off the end of his cigar. Gary's long   
coat flapped around as he again tried to fight his way out of the black-clad men's grasps. The Team Rocket   
boss watched the boy struggle for a moment, and then approached him. "So, this is the infamous Gary   
Oak. I hear you're quite the trainer."  
  
Gary glared.  
  
"Not very friendly, though." Giovanni turned to the other boy, who was still in a bit of daze. "And the   
mysterious and solemn Ash Ketchum." Ash didn't seem to notice he was being spoken to. "Hello? Are   
we comatose?"  
  
The boy blinked rapidly a couple times, and looked up. "Hi," he said chipperly, idly scraping the snow off   
the inseams of his jeans with the sides of his boots. He glanced around the center for a second, looking   
remarkably happy. "Where's the party?"   
  
Giovanni got the distinct impression that the boy had cracked. He glowered for a moment, upset at the fact   
that the dark-haired boy had ruined his fun. He recovered quickly, though. "The party's over." He smiled,   
his teeth bared.  
  
Gary spoke for the first time, his voice infused with a quiet viciousness. "What are we here for? What   
could you possibly want from us?"   
  
The large man's grin widened. "Well, first of all, I want that lovely team of Pokémon you have," he said,   
nodding to another thug standing off to the side. The thug searched Gary first, finding the Pokéballs easily   
enough, and stripping him of his cell phone and pocketknife.   
  
As the thug handed the Pokéballs to his boss and turned to search Ash, Gary erupted. "You fuck! If you   
do anything to my fucking Pokémon I swear to god I will hunt you down and kill you in your sleep!   
You…"  
  
"Oh, I'm not really worried about that," the calm Rocket boss said easily. "I don't plan on letting you leave   
here alive. So unless you want to haunt me in the next life, I suggest you find another plan." Gary's eyes   
widened slightly, his whole body shaking in fury. Ash's expression hadn't changed, he still studied the   
room with an absent sort of euphoria.   
  
"This one's got no Pokéballs, Boss," said the thug, standing up. "Justa knife an' a phone on this one, is   
all."   
  
Giovanni frowned and turned to Ash. "Where're your Pokémon, boy?"  
  
The young man's face fell, the first betrayal of any semblance of sanity he had shown. His eyes drifted to   
the floor as he said, "I only had one. She… she died yesterday."  
  
Giovanni frowned further, the characteristic heavy cloud of hate descending back upon him, his good mood   
gone. "Killed in some epic Pokémon battle, I'm sure. How convinient."  
  
Ash's eyes snapped to the man's face, surprising him with their intensity. "She got hit by a car," he   
growled.   
  
Giovanni stared at the boy. "Well, if your Pokémon are hidden somewhere, they're going to wither away   
in their Pokéballs. Either they live with Team Rocket or they die, deserted, in some back alleyway   
somewhere. Your choice," he shrugged.  
  
"I told you. She's dead."  
  
Giovanni glowered again. He opened his mouth to speak, but the familiar burr of a cell phone interrupted   
him. He hissed through his teeth as he pulled the phone from a pocket.   
  
"Yes. This had better be important." He was silent for a moment as a muffled voice radiated from the   
phone. He nodded briefly. "Alright," he said, and hung up. "Go and get the nurse and that damned girl.   
We're going to blow the door and get out of here," he said to a girl off to the side, who trotted off down a   
hall, speaking into a radio as she went.  
  
Ash came to life when he heard Giovanni's plan, throwing himself against the weight of the thugs. His   
unexpected outburst surprised the guards who held him and he managed to free himself of their oppressive   
grip and throw his small weight at Giovanni. He made it only a few steps, though, before he was caught   
again.   
  
Furious, he screamed. "You can't do this! You can't do this, you said you wouldn't! YOU CAN'T DO   
THIS!"  
  
The man just laughed and turned back to the window. "Of course I can." He turned to his cronies. "Take   
them out to the cars, I'll finish…dealing…with them later. And, for god's sake, don't put them together."   
He eyed the two boys. "We don't want them getting any ideas of escape or the like."  
  
  
Ash sat in the idling car and watched with mild interest as Gary put up a huge fight. He was, for some   
reason beyond Ash Ketchum's completely numbed mind, violently opposed to being shoved into the back   
of a large black sedan. His back was to the opened car door, his hands and feet braced against the sides of   
it. The road was slick with ice, and the thugs were having a horrible time getting enough leverage to force   
the boy into the sedan. Two larger black vans were parked in front of the sedan, and two behind it,   
between Gary's unwanted transport and the identical car Ash was locked in. The thug sitting in the driver's   
seat of Ash's car appeared to be laughing at the spectacle, but Ash could hardly hear him through the thick,   
bulletproof glass separating the back seat from the front.   
  
He heard a muffled, yet still violent explosion from the Pokémon Center as Team Rocket blasted through   
the vault. He imagined being the owner of some of those Pokémon, and finding out in the morning that his   
precious, well-bred companion had been ripped to shreds by some uncaring thugs. Sure, only one-sixth of   
the Pokéballs in the vault would sustain any damage and only one-seventh completely destroyed. But that   
was an unacceptable loss.   
  
Ash had given himself up, hoping to save the lives of those innocent creatures. And he had failed. He   
pressed his face against the freezing glass of the window.   
  
With the way he felt now, he may as well have been taken out in that blast, too. He saw streams of dark-  
clad figures ooze from the door of the Pokémon center, all of them carrying large mesh bags over their   
shoulders. The red and white of hundreds of Pokéballs could be seen in the dim glow of the streetlights.  
  
The Rockets loaded into the vans. A number of them assisted those having trouble with Gary, and he was   
quickly thrown into the back of the car. Another figure was being pushed into the back of Gary's car, too.   
It looked like Nurse Joy. His stomach turned as he thought of her, that poor girl, dying for no reason other   
than that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ash looked up, startled, as the door opposite him   
was opened. A small, pale, redheaded girl was shoved unceremoniously into the back seat, and the door   
slammed behind her.   
  
Ash's jaw dropped slightly. His heart began to race as he realized who it was. The girl brushed herself off   
and sat up, revealing the large red "R" on her black shirt.   
  
"Misty?" Ash whispered.  
  
The girl froze, horrified. "Ash?" she breathed. "I…"  
  
She was cut off as the boy's hands closed around her neck. She clawed desperately at him, but he held   
tightly.  
  
"Holy shit, he's killin' her!" shouted one of the thugs. He fumbled with the key in the door lock. The   
Rocket in the front seat turned around, laughing harder as he saw Ash desperately shaking the life out of   
the girl.  
  
The man finally unlocked the door and pulled Misty from the car. She fell to the ground, almost   
unconscious. The thug climbed into the back seat and punched Ash in the jaw as best as he could with the   
little room the car provided.   
  
Ash's head snapped back into the window, aching at both points that it had been hit. Blinked back the tears   
he felt pooling in his eyes. He registered the sight of the rest of the cars and vans pull away and leaving   
them to follow, as the Rocket produced a pair of handcuffs and looped them through the handhold above   
the door. Ash offered no resistance as he was restrained; he was too drained emotionally to become   
physically violent again.   
  
The thug crawled backward out of the car and pulled Misty, still dazed, up by her arm. She shook off her   
lightheadedness and brushed the snow off of her pants before climbing into the car.   
  
As the door slammed behind her, she reached out and slapped Ash across the face. He cringed, yet another   
spot on his head beginning to throb. Misty silently turned away and crossed her arms over her chest   
indignantly.  
  
Ash was not about to be intimidated. "You. This is your fault, then, huh?" he growled, resting his head on   
his suspended arms.   
  
"You don't think I feel bad about it?" she bit back.  
  
"No," he snarled.  
  
The girl's anger faded slightly. Her face remained tensed in anger, but her eyes and voice softened. "Well,   
I do. I tried to… I wanted to stop them. But there was nothing I could do, so I…"  
  
"You saved your own ass and screwed us all over," the boy finished, his voice sharp.   
  
Misty's anger and resolve dissipated quickly. She sniffed slightly, turning to the window. "I saved my ass   
and screwed you all over," she repeated quietly. "I'm sorry." The car jerked as the driver urged it away   
from the curb and over the snowdrift its front end was almost stuck on.   
  
Ash stared at the floor, focusing on the sharp pain in his ankle where he had pushed Vulpix's Pokéball   
earlier. He didn't know where the idea came from, he'd certainly not been contemplating escape. He had   
almost felt possessed at the time, not thinking or speaking of his own will. It just… came out. He was   
immensely glad it had happened, though. His sanity would be questionable right now if he knew that his   
only Pokémon was in the hands of that… that monster. He ached at the thought of the Pokémon killed for   
no cause other than some vicious old man's selfishness.  
  
He tried to push the thought of the Pokémon's owners from his mind, concentrating again on where the   
small sphere was biting into his leg inside his boot. He didn't know how he'd gotten it in there so easily,   
either. Maybe his luck was finally improving.  
  
Sure, he thought. You've a better-than-average chance of dying tonight, and you think you're lucky?  
  
He heard Misty sniffle softly again, and glanced up. The girl looked like she was the verge of completely   
breaking down. Good, he thought.   
  
He mentally reprimanded himself. He'd been harsh on her, and she obviously was upset anyway. If he and   
Gary were going to be "taken care of", didn't that mean she would, too? She obviously wasn't as at ease   
with her imminent end as he was.   
  
Damn, he thought. She's going to die for something that has almost nothing to do for her, and it's my fault.   
Not only that, but I tried to throttle the life out of her. Another life I've ruined. Way to go, Ketchum.  
  
"Misty," he said, quietly. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… well, you know, try to…I didn't mean to hurt   
you, it was just a… sort of natural reaction. I'm sorry." He leaned forward slightly, trying to look into the   
girl's face.  
  
  
Brutus glanced into the back seat. "Wonder what they're talkin' 'bout, Nicky?" he asked his partner.  
  
"I don't really care," Nick mumbled, trying to concentrate on driving. The roads were absolutely terrible,   
completely iced over. The snowy mist didn't help, either, nor did the drifts wafting across the streets.   
They were far behind the rest of the group, the sudden homicidal outburst from their male passenger   
putting them behind schedule. Maybe Brutus didn't care, but Nick didn't want to get fired.  
  
"They're cute," his parter continued. "Ya think that maybe they're a couple?"  
  
"Why would a 'couple' attempt to beat the living shit out of each other?" Nick responded, impatiently.  
  
Brutus shrugged. "Maybe they're inta that kinda thing."  
  
Nick rolled his eyes. There was a pair of headlights approaching, and he drove as far to the right of his lane   
as he could. The other car mimicked his, hugging the shoulder of the road. Nick squeezed his eyes closed   
for a second, the hot, dry air of the heater bothering his contacts and making his vision blurred. His eyes   
cleared slowly, and he realized that the headlights were now directly in front of them, closing in fast.   
  
He was sure, for a second, that he was imagining things and the car wasn't actually in the wrong lane,   
baring down on them. It just didn't make sense, he thought as he shifted his foot to the brake pedal. Why   
would they suddenly swerve into oncoming traffic?  
  
He then noticed that the car was *spinning* towards them in an elegant, slow-motioned arc. He caught a   
glimpse of a large Dodrio stalking across the street. Well, that would make someone swerve, huh? he   
thought as the anti-lock brakes groaned on the icy road. Ironic, how it had all lined up just perfectly for this   
to happen. Must be fate. He pulled the steering wheel left slightly, hoping perhaps that he could veer off   
the road.  
  
The two cars collided in a scream of crunching metal and shattering glass, both vehicles sliding backwards   
from the impact. The black sedan spun into the ditch, the front driver's side slamming into a tree. Nick's   
last thought was of how manipulative fate could be sometimes. And then the world went black.  
  
  
Everything hurt like hell. Misty opened her eyes, almost afraid of what she'd see. She pulled herself up   
from the floor of the back seat. Nothing seemed to be broken, although, as she had noted before,   
*everything* hurt like hell. She glanced into the front seat, and immediately looked away. She was not   
one to cope well with gore, and there was plenty of it in the front half of the car. She tried her door,   
averting her eyes from the gruesome scene.   
  
It was locked, and the door had been rigged so it couldn't be unlocked from the inside of the back seat. She   
swore softly.  
  
"Aw, shit…" a voice moaned from the other side of the car. Misty jumped. She had almost forgotten that   
Ash was in the car. Pulling herself over to him with her head ducked so she didn't have to look up front.   
  
"Hey, Ash, are you okay?" she said, reaching for the handcuffs. His wrists were bleeding badly; they'd   
absorbed the majority of Ash's sudden momentum, but the metal edges appeared to have avoided any main   
arteries. His flesh was torn, and the bone on the inside of his right wrist was exposed.   
  
"Sorry," she muttered. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"  
  
The boy cringed and nodded. "Everywhere, I think. But nothing serious." There was a cut on his forehead   
where he had slammed into the door dripping blood into his eye.   
  
Misty nodded. "I… the doors won't unlock. How are we supposed to get out of here?"  
  
Ash clenched his teeth against the shooting tendrils of pain snaking up his arms. "I have a Pokéball in my   
boot. It's a Vulpix, she should be able to take the door out with a Tackle." He extended his left foot,   
gasping in pain as his wrists shifted slightly in the cuffs. "You're gonna hafta get the handcuff keys off that   
guy in the front," he said.  
  
Misty shuddered. "Ash, have you *looked* in the front? Don't, if you haven't," she added.  
  
Ash looked anyway, and flinched as he cast his eyes to the seat. "It's pretty bad, huh." He sucked in his   
breath as another wave of white-hot pain curled around his wrists.  
  
Misty nodded again, frowning. She reached for Ash's foot and pulled his boot off. The Pokéball rolled   
into her hand, and the little fire-fox materialized in a wash of white and pink light. Vulpix looked around,   
confused.   
  
"Hey, girl," Ash said weakly. "Could you take that door off for us?" He nodded to the door on Misty's   
side. Misty moved to Ash's side of the car to give the Pokémon room.   
  
The fox barked, then crouched and threw herself at the door. It groaned in protest, but remained intact with   
only a slight dent.  
  
"She's not strong enough," Misty sighed, fearing the arrival of the police or—worse—Team Rocket   
looking for their missing car.  
  
Ash licked his lips. "It's okay, Vulpix. Just keep your eyes closed and aim for the glass, okay?"  
  
"Vul!" The Pokémon backed up and crouched again, this time jumping higher and striking the window   
with her shoulder. The glass crackled, a spiderweb of fractures appearing.   
  
"Good! Great!" Ash called encouragingly. "Keep going, you've almost got it!"  
  
A few more attacks, and the window was completely shattered, but still in the frame. Misty returned the   
Pokémon and slipped her hand into the boot she had pulled off Ash's leg. She pounded at the window, her   
face turned away to avoid the fragments. The window crumbled beneath her hand.   
  
A blast of cold air ripped through the car, stinging Ash's raw wrists. Misty knocked the last shards of glass   
from the window and pulled herself through, landing shakily in the snow outside. She bit her lip and   
reached for the front passenger's door.  
  
It was unlocked, and opened easily enough, as if the rest of the car wasn't mangled beyond recognition.   
Misty took a step back as the sweet, coppery smell of fresh blood spilled into the air. She steeled herself   
and forced her feet to carry her to the car. Keeping her eyes on the ground as much as she could and   
hoping to all the gods that the handcuff keys were in the thug's right pocket. She slipped her hand into his   
pants pocket, still refusing to look at the spectacle in the front seat.  
  
Her hands closed on a warm metal key ring, and she sighed in relief. Pulling the keys from the… well, she   
could only assume he was dead… man's pocket and retreated quickly to the back of the car.   
  
She dragged herself clumsily through the window again and gently unlocked the Ash's handcuffs, trying   
her best not to press them into his wrists.  
  
Ash grunted in pain as he lowered his arms, rolling his shoulders experimentally. He reached for his boot   
and pulled it back on his foot, trying to move his forearms as little as possible. "I think I'm in one piece.   
Are… are you okay?" Misty nodded despite her raging headache, backache, entire-body-ache, and her new,   
key hunting-related stomachache. She had hit the back of the front seat sideways. She thought for a   
moment of how she would feel right now if she hadn't been sitting turned away from the window, and had   
hit the bulletproof glass head-on. She shuddered again.  
  
She climbed back out the window and turned to help Ash through. "It's a miracle that we both survived   
that," she noted.   
  
Ash nodded slightly. "Maybe our luck has finally turned."  
  
"Not luck," she murmured. "More like fate."  
  
They hurried away from the accident, avoiding the other car altogether. Once they were a distance from   
the road, the pair paused for a moment. Exhausted from pain, Ash propped himself up against a tree, trying   
to pull his hands into his coat without hurting his wrists further, but it didn't appear to be working. Misty   
watched him fumble for a few moments.   
  
Sighing, she shrugged out of her jacket and pulled off her top shirt, a black Rocket uniform top, leaving her   
in a thin white turtleneck. She shivered violently as she quickly huddled back into her jacket. She turned   
the shirt over in her hands, looking for the easiest place to start a tear in it. She pulled at a seam, but it   
didn't appear to want to give. She growled and pulled harder.  
  
Ash snickered softly, entertained by the girl's frustration. She whirled around and took a couple   
threatening steps towards him, her hands balling into fists.   
  
Ash only laughed harder.   
  
"Ash Ketchum, you ass! Here I am, trying to help you—after you tried to KILL ME, no less—and you're   
laughing at me!"   
  
The boy's expression softened, his demeanor suddenly turning serious. "You're right. I'm sorry. I   
shouldn't have attacked you back there, it was… vicious, I guess. I'm sorry."  
  
Misty frowned. She couldn't stay mad at him if he apologized like that. "I… no, I should be apologizing.   
It was a horrible thing that I did. If it makes you feel any better, I hate myself for it." She pulled at the   
shirt a bit more, and was rewarded by a pleasant ripping sound and the material parting under her fists. She   
worked at tearing the shirt into narrower strips. Ash was silent while she wrapped the newly made   
bandages around his wrists. He stared at the ground pensively, focusing on the coldness on his toes to help   
him ignore the pain in his arms.   
  
"It's okay. We're both sorry, so let's just put this behind us." He bit his lip as Misty tightened the last strip   
of cloth around his wrists. The girl nodded mutely. "Right now, we've got to figure out what to do," Ash   
continued. "I can't just leave Gary to… we've got to go after them. Will you show me how to get there?"  
  
Misty nodded again. "But it's twenty-something miles out of the city. That's a two-hour walk, in good   
weather, on the roads. I have no idea how long it would take us in the woods through a foot and a half of   
snow." She wished that Giovanni hadn't taken their cell phones.   
  
Ash bit his lip in thought. "How far out of the city do you think we are?"  
  
"I'm not sure. We couldn't be that far, we were only in the car for a few minutes. You're not thinking of   
getting a cab or something, are you?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Haven't you been watching the news? You and Gary are wanted criminals."  
  
Ash looked confused. "Yeah, but… we've been wanted criminals for three *years* now. Nobody's   
stopped us yet."  
  
"You… Ash, after the raid…" she huffed, frustrated. "Giovanni has connections in the police. No, scratch   
that, he practically *owns* the police. After you and Gary didn't turn up in the raid, he had the police   
plaster wanted posters of you two all over the city. Your faces are on the news every night."  
  
Ash stared blankly for a moment, then swallowed. "You're serious?"  
  
"I thought you would have noticed."  
  
"We've been kind of preoccupied." He picked at the bandages around his wrists. "Well, we're not gonna   
walk all the way to the Rocket headquarters in this weather. C'mon." He started trudging through the   
snow back towards Vermilion.   
  
"What're we gonna do?"  
  
Ash sighed. "I'll figure something out."  
  
  
Jessie and James sat in terminal fourteen in a comfortable silence, both lost in their thoughts. To an outside   
observer, they could have appeared to be brother and sister. Their hands were idly and loosely clasped over   
the armrest of their adjoining chairs. James' feet swung beneath his chair like an impatient child's. His   
eyes rested on the two tickets in his hand, the coated surface bending between his tightened fingers. His   
entire body was shaking with adrenaline and excitement and anticipation. He was finally doing it, he was   
finally free. Free to love who he wanted to, free to be himself with abandon and no regard to what was the   
proper thing to do. He repressed the urge to giggle.  
  
His mind was a blur of possibility. The two tickets to Chartreuse Island were the center of his world now,   
with every point in his future branching off from those two slips of paper.   
  
He vaguely registered the ringing of a nearby cell phone, probably Jessie's, and her dropping his hand. A   
moment later Jessie's standing up disturbed his pensive trance. He watched her take a few steps away and   
tuck her phone back into her bag.  
  
James reached for her hand. "Who was that? Is everything alright?"  
  
Jessie bit her lip and swallowed hard, glancing at the tickets clutched in James' hand. "I… There's a   
problem."  
  
  
Gary tried to keep the panic he felt from welling up and forcing its way out. He could feel that something   
was wrong, besides the obvious "going to get killed by Pokémon Mafia members". Apparently, Team   
Rocket's nefarious plan wasn't going so smoothly.   
  
Meaning he wasn't dead yet. At the moment, he was locked in a storage closet with Joy, who was in some   
sort of catatonic trance. Probably fear-induced. He was about ready to pass out, himself. They'd been   
there for half an hour, waiting for… something.   
  
He hadn't seen Ash since they'd left the Center. That was what distressed him the most. There was a   
nagging ache in the back of his mind that kept bringing Ash's face to the forefront of his thoughts.   
  
Sonofabitch, Ketchum, he thought. Where the hell are you?   
  
  
James' car did not belong in this part of town. It rolled cautiously, warily, under the pooled orange light of   
the street lamps. The nervousness extended to its driver and passenger.   
  
Recognition leaked into the driver's eyes as they scanned a street sign, and the black BMW pulled to the   
curb, idling. The passenger pulled herself from the car and onto the curb and pushed her seat forward to   
allow two ducked figures to dart from an alley and into the car. She followed them back into the car and   
locked her door as soon as it clicked shut.  
  
Jessie sighed slightly and gestured to the back seat. "James, this is Ash. And Misty." She eyed the other   
girl coolly. So this was their antagonist, the thorn in the foot of the Underground. No, that wasn't right.   
"Thorn in the foot" implied that the foot, and the whole being, still existed. The Underground was over.   
There was no way they could stay low profile anymore, after the majority of their members were   
imprisoned and their two leaders were being hunted by both the police and Team Rocket. Pokémon   
training was officially dead. She tightened her jaw, ignoring the idle greetings, ignoring the cold, ignoring   
the world and trying to keep herself composed.  
  
This whole day was a dream. She had not cried all morning at the death of her first true love affair, then   
flee from her apartment pursued by huge, black-clad thugs. She had not been sitting in the airport, half an   
hour away from disappearing from this world and dissolving into a new, better one. She had not agreed to   
embark on this… this… my god, she might die tonight.   
  
It must be a dream, she concluded. She would wake up in a little while with Meowth sitting on her   
stomach, crying for his breakfast. She would get up and dress and go off to her meaningless job, come   
home to an empty, dark house, and go back to bed.  
  
That didn't sound great, either. Jessie decided that she almost like the dream better than the reality. They   
were out of the city already, she registered numbly. The roads were terrible. She noticed two cars on the   
side of the road, one of them, a black sedan, bent around a tree. She heard a muffled sob from the backseat   
as Misty buried her face in her jacket. Jessie turned around slightly and saw Ash rest a hand on the girl's   
shoulder. Baka, she thought. He's gone and gotten attached to her, and she's already screwed him over.   
  
She turned back to the window, although there was nothing to look at save for the uniform gray of the sky   
and the snow. The car was slowing. She looked up, her skin tingling with nervousness and excitement and   
dread. A low, dark building lay in front of them off at a distance, tucked into some trees.   
  
Misty sniffed from the backseat. "It's bigger than it looks," she said. "There're six sub-basements. The   
vault where the Pokéballs will be is in the sixth basement. It's a long way to go, but it's not hard to find,   
and if you go in through the back you probably won't see anyone until you reach the actual vault."  
  
James nodded slowly. "Will that be Jessie and I, then? If it's easy to find, then you won't need to show us   
how to get there..."  
  
"I guess that makes sense, although I'll have to give you some access codes. Do you have a pen? Thanks,"   
the girl said, taking the pen and rummaging in her pockets for a piece of paper. She wrote out some   
characters quickly, then passed the paper to the front seat and handed James his pen. Jessie frowned. She   
and James were going to be left all alone in the Rocket headquarters?  
  
Misty continued talking. "Ash and I are going upstairs to the Boss's office. Gary and the nurse are most   
likely close by, and I'm pretty sure they'll both be alive. He's probably just found out about the crash and   
is sending out teams to look for us. And he doesn't have all of Gary's Pokémon yet, he'll probably try to   
make him tell where they are. I think that's going to keep them alive just long enough for us to get there."  
  
James nodded again and drove past the building's driveway. About quarter of a mile down, there was a   
crossroads. He turned left and pulled the car over at an odd angle, hoping to make it appear that the car   
was abandoned in an accident so that Team Rocket wouldn't trash it before they got the chance to drive it   
back into the city.   
  
If they ever came out of the building, that is.  
  
The four climbed out of the car and stood for a moment. The forest around them was muffled from the   
fresh snow, every noise and movement dulled by the forced silence. Ash took a deep breath.  
  
"Guess this is it. You ready?" he glanced at the group—Jessie still in a big sweatshirt and pajama pants   
from earlier that afternoon when she had been chased from her apartment under one of James' jackets he   
had lent her, James with his neatly knotted tie, Ash and Misty's clothing stained with blood. Ash's eyes   
rested on Misty for a moment longer, and she lifted her face to meet his gaze.   
  
She smiled, shivering in cold and excitement.   
  
They could still back out, he supposed. He could flee the country and change his name. He'd probably be   
fine. Physically, at least. He mulled the thought over in his mind, and then smiled slightly. "Alright.   
Let's go."   
  
The four started back along the road at a trot, the cold biting through their clothes. It was all up to fate   
now.  
  
At the entrance to the building's grounds, they ducked into the woods. Misty pulled James aside and   
whispered some last-minute directions to him. He nodded, then gestured to Jessie. The two disappeared   
into the darkness of the forest and the night.   
  
Misty looked at Ash for a moment. "Follow me, okay?"   
  
The two pushed through the snow towards a maintenance door in the side of the building.  
  
  
Jessie and James hugged on last time in front of the door. Jessie fought the urge to cry for what seemed   
like the millionth time that day as James punched in the door's access code and disappeared into the   
building. She followed him in, her heart racing.   
  
It was very dark inside the building. Outside, there had been security lights to guide them, but the hallways   
in front of them were as black and silent as the twisting corridors of hell. Jessie groped for a wall, and felt   
James take her hand. A tiny beam of light appeared, and she could see James fumbling with a small   
penlight. She squeezed his hand. He smiled back and headed left down the hallway.   
  
The building was chilly. Not bitterly, painfully cold, like it had been outside, but a forgotten kind of cold,   
like the owner of the building had been dead for years and the building lived on, abandoned. She shivered   
involuntarily and pressed closer to James, adjusting his empty backpack over her shoulder. They reached   
another fork, and James pointed his penlight at the slip of paper in his hand, then led Jessie right along the   
hallway.   
  
  
Ash ducked into a doorway, pulling Misty behind him, his body shaking with adrenaline. A guard stalked   
around the corner outside the door, oblivious. After he passed, Ash glanced out the door again and darted   
in the opposite direction.   
  
They had been dodging and hiding for the past five minutes, making painfully slow progress towards the   
Boss's office. The hall appeared clear ahead. Misty nudged him and whispered, "The stairwell's not far   
ahead. After that we just have to get to the back of the building. But what do we do after that?"  
  
Ash swallowed. "I don't know. We're just winging it, okay?"  
  
The girl looked at him like he was insane. "Winging it?"  
  
"What? You expected me to have some underhanded, brilliant scheme? I'm surprised we made it this far   
…crap!" he pulled her into a deserted hallway as voices echoed from down the hall. Two more Rocket   
thugs strolled past. Ash glanced at Misty for a moment, and she gestured towards the right and mouthed,   
"stairs". He nodded once and, after checking to make sure the guards had cleared the corner, ran towards   
the end of the hallway.   
  
The door to the stairwell was directly ahead of him as he rounded the corner. He unclipped Vulpix's   
Pokéball from his belt, cringing as his wrists reminded him of their earlier accident. He pulled the door   
open with one hand, his other hand's thumb poised over the release catch on the Pokéball. Misty ducked   
through the doorway and into the stairwell, and Ash followed.  
  
The two paused, breathing heavily.   
  
  
Jessie jumped the last two stairs, her side aching from the six flights she had descended at a dead run.   
James paused at the door to the hallway, and she narrowly avoided plowing him into the window. He   
pulled open the door and stepped into the hall, blinking as the light flooded his eyes. The stairwell had   
been dimly lit, and the hall before it black, but the sixth basement was completely lighted. James tucked   
the penlight into his jacket pocket and glanced again at the directions.  
  
  
Vulpix materialized in a flash of whitewashed pink, the dim stairwell glowing as she was formed. The fox   
yipped quietly and jumped to Ash's shoulders, sensing the excitement from her master and cultivating it as   
her own. The trainer caught his Pokémon's gaze for a moment, and the fox's eyes glowed. A brief,   
invisible spark passed between them as a wave of realization passed into the animal.   
  
Ash was confident. She knew.   
  
  
James peered around the corner, then turned back to Jessie. "Only two of them," he whispered. Jessie   
glanced around behind him, visualizing two huge, burly men standing stubbornly outside an old-fashioned   
bank safe door. She swallowed hard as James jumped out and charged towards the guards.  
  
She followed after him, the paper with the access codes clutched in her sweaty palm. She cringed as she   
saw James slam into one of the guards, who appeared almost exactly as she had visualized them. In fact,   
almost everything was as she had imagined it, save for the vault door. The second guard was on James   
now, the two of them distracted enough to not notice a small, mahogany-haired girl plugging in access   
numbers on the vault's keypad and slipping in, letting the vault seal behind her. It was up to James to get   
her out; they had agreed that it would be wiser for her to be locked in the vault while packing up the   
Pokémon. James would unlock the vault from the outside when he was sure the guards were incapacitated.   
The vault's door whooshed closed behind her, filling the small room with a palpable blackness. Jessie   
fumbled with the penlight James had given her, and finally managed to click it on.  
  
There were bags and bags of Pokéballs in front of her. Her eyes widened. How the hell was she going to   
get all these out of here?   
  
The balls were expanded, not in their more compact size. For storage, Pokéballs were generally kept full-  
size, as it was easier for oxygen to flow to the Pokémon inside them. The Pokéballs had been fully   
expanded at the Center, and Jessie guessed that they hadn't had time to shrink them before leaving the   
Center. It would take her forever… She sighed, unzipped the backpack, and reached for the first bag of   
Pokéballs.  
  
  
Gary didn't bother to struggle as several large men dragged him and Joy through a hallway. It was over, he   
thought. Nearly twenty-one and his life was already over. He hoped that Ash was alright, wherever he   
was. He'd never get to say goodbye.  
  
The two captives were pushed into a large, softly lit, beautifully furnished room. Leather chairs and   
couches littered the floor, and a huge fireplace roared to one side. The center of the room, though, was a   
giant desk. A man reclined in a chair, facing away from the doorway, staring out a window, a cigar fuming   
in his hand. Gary was shoved towards the desk, and he stumbled forward, barely able to catch his balance   
with his hands tied behind his back.   
  
The chair behind the desk swiveled around. Gary snarled. "Oh, it's you again."  
  
Giovanni smiled softly, a frightening gesture when offered by one with his demeanor, and sucked at his   
cigar.   
  
"What the hell have you done with Ash?"  
  
The large man's smile grew wider, his teeth glinting. "Oh, Ketchum has managed to take care of himself.   
Your little friend is either already dead or dying slowly out in the cold. Isn't that swell?"  
  
Gary's rage began to manifest itself in tears. He glared at the man behind the desk, his chest heaving   
uncontrollably.   
  
Giovanni's grin broke into laughter, frustrating the boy even further. The Rocket boss watched happily as   
the boy wrestled with his emotions, and then continued. "Now, now, Oak. I'm sure we can handle this like   
adults, can't we? So I'm going to tell you what I want, and then what you can do to help me, alright?"  
  
Gary growled. "I'd never do anything to help you, asshole."   
  
The dark man's laugh dissolved into a guttural roar. "Then you die!" Gary shrank back. He heard Joy   
scream briefly behind him. The man's composure slowly returned, and he pulled a small bag from the   
floor by his desk. The contents spilled onto the desk—six Pokéballs, each with the initials "G.O." engraved   
on the release button. "Now, back to what I want from you, Oak. You have more than these six Pokémon.   
I want the rest, now. And I want to know where Ketchum keeps his Pokémon. Then, maybe, I'll let you   
live."  
  
Gary set his jaw. "I'm not telling you shit."  
  
Giovanni chuckled again, sending chills down Gary's spine. "I'm not asking you, Oak. I'm telling you.   
You'd better behave, or else," he gestured to the man holding Joy, who held a gun to the woman's head,   
"Bad things might happen. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"  
  
Gary cringed and forced himself to stay calm. "Why the hell would it be on my conscience? There's   
nothing I could tell you. You have all my Pokémon, and Ash told you his only Pokémon was killed last   
week."  
  
Giovanni thought for a moment. He was not particularly enthusiastic about killing the nurse. He could   
justify Ketchum and Oak to the police easily enough, but he'd planned on paying off Joy and sending her   
back home. An evil light flickered in his eyes as he glanced at the Pokéballs on his desk. He lifted one   
and examined it. "Hmm. The scanners said that this one is a Bellsprout, level 22. I suppose it's   
expendable." He tossed the Pokéball in his hand, heading towards the fireplace.  
  
"No!" Gary lunged towards the man, the thugs on either side of him catching his arms before he could get   
anywhere. "Christ, no, don't do it! I'll tell you, what do you want?"  
  
Giovanni smiled briefly and strolled back to his desk, tossing the Pokéball back with the others. "I'm glad   
you've come to your senses."  
  
  
James' head snapped back as a fist caught him in the jaw. He staggered back, regrouping, trying to recall   
the karate lessons he'd taken as a teenager. He paused, eyeing both guards warily, crouched, ready to   
spring.   
  
He'd managed to knock out one of the guards due to his rather unexpected attack. Luckily, he'd attacked   
the one thug with a gun, and kicked the weapon away before its safety could even be clicked off. The   
second guard, though, was proving more of a challenge.  
  
The guard sneered, blood running down his chin from where James had smashed the man's nose. The   
guard's sneer grew into a smirk, as he seemed to recognize his opponent. "Mister Kojiro himself, eh?" he   
said, his voice gravelly and low. "Fancy seeing you here."  
  
James' eyes widened for a moment as he connected the Rocket's face. The man who had broken into his   
house earlier that night… this was him.   
  
The guard continued in a mock-earnest tone. "I feel it is my duty to inform you that your lovely little   
Growlithe is in that vault. He put up quite the fight, but I managed to beat the crap out of it."  
  
James glowered. "Growlie? You bastard, he's not trained to fight."  
  
The man snickered. "Growlie? That bitch's name is Growlie? I've never heard such a stupid…" he was   
cut off as the air rushed from his lungs as James' foot caught him in the ribs. He gasped and backed up a   
few steps. "Oh, you're taking it personally? Good." He charged.  
  
James tried to duck to the side, but he stumbled. The Rocket caught him in the side, plowing him facefirst   
into the wall, catching his already-abused jaw at an awkward angle. He heard something pop in his mouth   
and tasted the thick, nauseating tang of blood. He spit out a mouthful of blood, spraying it onto the wall   
and floor. He felt a pair of small, sharp lumps on his tongue, and spit that out too. Two of his molars fell   
to the ground, stained red with his blood. James groaned mentally. He *hated* going to the dentist, but   
now he'd have to…  
  
The Rocket laughed again, and twined his fingers in James' long, bluish hair, pulling his head back. He   
cracked James' head into the wall once more, then pushed him roughly to the side.  
  
James hit the ground nearly unconscious, his ears ringing. His face ached, his mouth was bleeding   
profusely. His nose throbbed in time with his heart, pushing more and more blood onto the floor. He'd   
landed on his left arm at an odd angle, and it throbbed, too. He hoped it wasn't sprained.   
  
He could see the Rocket at the keypad, punching in buttons in what seemed like slow motion. James   
summoned all the strength he could find to pull himself up, but his wounded arm buckled beneath him.   
Pain exploded from his arm and he collapsed back onto the floor, hardly noticing a large, cool, metal object   
beneath his back.  
  
Butch was euphoric. Everything was going right today. Not only had his mission gone successfully, but he   
was almost positive he would be promoted now, as soon as he pulled that rich fuck's girlfriend out of the   
vault. He plugged the last few digits of the access code into the keypad and rested his fingers on the door   
handle, allowing himself a rare moment of triumph. His day had gone perfectly.  
  
A loud crack resounded in his ears as he felt a sudden, sharp pressure in his abdomen. He swallowed, and   
glanced over at James Kojiro, billionaire, who was staring incredulously at the gun in his shaking hand.   
  
A warm pulsing began to swallow his senses, first consuming his sense of touch, then sound. He took an   
uncertain step back and tripped, falling to the floor. The pulsing took over his vision next, blurring his   
sight with fuzzy grays and reds, and he thought that perhaps this day wasn't going as well as it could have.  
  
  
Ash sprinted the last hallway to the Boss's office, Misty a few paces behind him. Vulpix tore down the   
corridor next to him, the aura of heat surrounding her growing hotter as her pulse increased.   
  
The dark, wooden double doors of the office grew larger. "Vulpix, Tackle!" Ash said, barely loud enough   
for the fox's sharp ears to catch. The little Pokémon sped up and leapt into the air, hitting the doors with   
her shoulder and sending them exploding open into the office.  
  
Ash felt a further pulse of adrenaline as he followed his Pokémon into the room, and yelled to the fire-fox   
to use Fire Blast. A column of flames exploded from the little creature, and though the attack wasn't fully   
focused and didn't contact anything, it did its job. The force of the blast was strong enough to throw one of   
the Rockets into a wall, knocking him out. Ash could only see two other thugs in the room. Gary had   
taken action as soon as the doors had exploded open, and had plowed Joy to the ground, covering her with   
his body. Misty scrambled to their sides, and unlocked their handcuffs with the key she had kept from   
earlier.  
  
Ash called for another Fire Blast, and this time Vulpix controlled it perfectly. The room shook with the   
explosion of expanding hot air, knocking the entire room off of its feet, and two of the walls exploded in   
flames.   
  
Giovanni hit the floor hard, his head cracking on the corner of his desk. He lay on the floor for a moment,   
fighting to remain conscious, his head throbbing. He heard a few shouts and two more blasts, and assumed   
that the rest of his guards were down. Yet another blast rattled the furniture in his office, causing several of   
Gary's Pokéballs to roll to the floor next to Giovanni's prone form. The man's dark eyes lit up for a   
moment as an idea played through his barely functioning mind. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his   
desk and groped for the gun he knew was inside. His fingers closed around the grip, and he grinned.   
  
He heard more shouting from the other side of the room, but didn't look up. He gathered up Oak's   
Pokéballs in his arms and stood up, his head swimming.   
  
  
Gary nudged his friend, pointing to Giovanni's struggling form behind the desk. Flames had spread   
through another one of the walls, and were starting down the hallway to the left frighteningly quickly.   
Three of Gary's Pokéballs had rolled towards the door, giving the anxious boy an opportunity to grab them   
back and tuck them onto his belt. But three out of six…   
  
Ash grabbed his friend's arm. "Gary, you help Misty get Joy out of here. I'll deal with Giovanni and get   
your Pokémon back. I'll be right behind you."  
  
"Ash, you can't…"  
  
"I swear, I will be out of this building with your Pokémon. Get out of here!" Ash had to yell to be heard   
over the increasing roar of the flames. Vulpix collapsed at her master's feet, exhausted, waiting for her   
next order.   
  
Gary eyed Giovanni warily. He didn't appear to be seeing very well; he kept shaking his head and rubbing   
his eyes. Gary was silent for a few seconds. "Ketchum, if you die, I'm gonna kill you."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
"Be careful."  
  
"I will."   
  
Gary nodded and ducked into the hallway where Misty was trying to support the unresponsive Joy.   
  
  
Jessie yelped as the fire alarms started blaring through the hall. James glanced up from where he was   
loading the last of the Pokéballs into a Kangaskahn's pocket. A line of thirteen other beautiful, best-of-  
breed Kangaskahn stood next to the man. He licked his lips and straightened up.   
  
"What the hell?" Jessie called over the noise of the sirens.   
  
"I dunno, Jess. Let's get out of here!"   
  
The parade of humans and Pokémon filed into the stairwell, each Kangaskahn leaping from one landing to   
the next with remarkable ease. The two humans watched the line of Pokémon go, James leaning on Jessie   
for support.  
  
"Hey, Jess?" he called, his jaw aching.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You think we can still make the flight?"  
  
  
  
  
Ash hardly noticed when the fire alarms started, the noise of the fire was so loud. He managed to discern   
several clicks as a nearby sprinkler struggled to start. He thought briefly that the pipes had probably   
frozen.   
  
He jumped as he heard a roar. Giovanni rose to his feet shakily, holding three Pokéballs and laughing   
hysterically. "Not gonna be that easy!" he yelled. He lifted his right arm and leveled a gun at Ash's head.   
"Not that easy!"  
  
Ash froze. His resolve disappeared, and he began to feel the familiar tendrils of anxiety play up his spine.   
Vulpix tried to stand, but she was so weakened by her attacks that she could hardly move.  
  
Giovanni laughed again. "Oh, you scared of a little bullet, Ketchum? Maybe I won't kill you and your   
little fox if you tell me where the rest of your Pokémon are!"  
  
Ash shook slightly. "I… I don't have any others."  
  
"Yeah, and your only Pokémon was hit by a car. How sad!" The fire danced all around Giovanni,   
reflecting in his eyes. The flames were edging to surround him, but he made no motions to move from the   
danger zone. He snapped the safety off of the gun. "Tell me, Ketchum."  
  
"I don't fucking *have* any others!"  
  
"BULLSHIT!" the man howled.   
  
  
Vulpix saw the man's finger moving on the trigger. She had no idea what a gun was, or what it could do,   
but she knew that her master feared it greatly. Her almond eyes flashed as she willed the last of her   
strength together and threw herself at the offending man, charging up one last Fire Blast as she leapt.   
  
  
The sound of the gun firing was almost drowned out by the explosion of Vulpix's Fire Blast. Giovanni was   
knocked to the floor by the power of the blast, and the world went black for him. The fox hit the ground on   
the opposite side of the desk at almost the exact same time.   
  
"Vulpix!" Ash staggered towards the little fire-fox's limp form. She was bleeding badly, the bullet had   
taken her in the hip. Her breath came in heavy, labored gasps. Panting, Ash clambered over the desk and   
gathered his friend's Pokéballs, clipping them to his belt, and then rushed back to his Pokémon's side.   
  
He lifted her gingerly, supporting her head in the crook of his elbow. "It's okay, girl, we're getting out of   
here."   
  
The hall to the left of Giovanni's office was completely engulfed in flame. The heat surged towards Ash,   
stunning him with the sheer volume of the temperature. He turned his face, his eyes burning from the heat,   
and staggered back down the hallway he had come charging through only a few moments ago.  
  
Time seemed to have stopped completely. Ash could anticipate each beat of his heart, and the sound of his   
breath rumbled through his mind, echoing and resounding and drowning out all other sounds.  
  
Vulpix's breathing became shallower and more ragged as Ash flew down the stairs. He turned to leave the   
building through the hall he had entered through, but the fire had gotten there first. He stood for a moment,   
unsure of where to go. He hesitantly started towards the front of the building, hoping that that section of   
the Rocket headquarters had yet to burn.  
  
  
Giovanni's thoughts returned slowly. The first thing that really registered to him was that he was angry,   
although he couldn't decide what about.   
  
It seemed uncommonly warm. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up slowly, unsure if he was dreaming or   
if his office was *actually* on fire. He frowned, and pulled himself to his feet. A wave of nausea rushed   
through him, and he reached out an unsteady hand to his desk to keep himself from falling again. He shook   
his head, trying to clear the mist that was drifting through it. He had to decide if this was real or not…   
  
A sudden, vicious stab of paranoia seized him, and he spun around, staring into the flames behind him.  
  
A dark, stoic figure regarded him with contempt from the fire, its elegant, fearsome silhouette seemingly   
unaffected by the inferno that surrounded it.   
  
It was a dog.  
  
The animal stared at Giovanni for a moment more, then approached. The flames seemed to part for the   
passage of the creature. Giovanni shook his head again and blinked hard, confident now that this was a   
dream of some sort.   
  
As the dog came closer, its features became more distinct. A white, skull-like form crowned its head. Its   
thick, fluid body was covered in fine black fur, and its chest and muzzle were the color of graveyard dirt—a   
rich, deep brown. Several white bands decorated its back and ankles. It uncannily resembled a picture   
Giovanni had seen of a legendary Houndour, a dark Pokémon that was commonly believed to be a fairy   
tale.   
  
The dog's black eyes fixed on the man's, and a chill ran up Giovanni's spine.  
  
He searched his mind for more information on this legendary Pokémon. He remembered a sense of   
foreboding and fear that surrounded the dog's reputation, but he couldn't quite remember why. It was on   
the tip of his mind, he just couldn't seem to reach it through this haze in his head.  
  
It came to him with a sudden rush of doom. Houndour was the dark Pokémon said to be responsible for   
bringing souls to the afterworld.   
  
The Pokémon growled quietly as flames licked at its feet. Giovanni felt the sudden impulse to scream.  
  
  
Red and blue light washed over the snow from the five squad cars and two ambulances that had made it all   
the way to the Rocket headquarters. There were no fire engines present; several had been dispatched, but   
they had yet to successfully maneuver the icy roads. It appeared too late for fire trucks, though. The   
building was going to continue to burn.  
  
Gary and Misty watched from the back of an ambulance as Ash knelt over the limp, red body lyingin the   
snow. It had been a while since either Pokémon or trainer had moved. Gary glanced into the ambulance   
where Joy lay with an oxygen mask clamped over her mouth, recovering from smoke inhalation. Jessie and   
James had departed before the police had arrived, offering hurried good-byes and disappearing into the   
woods. Joy had tried to convince James to stay until he could at least have his arm checked out, but the   
pair had been anxious to leave. Nobody questioned them, only wished them well.  
  
Gary's eyes drifted back to his best friend, bent over the cooling body of his Vulpix. He stepped in the   
boy's direction, intent on comforting the boy, but Misty grabbed his arm. "Let him be," she said. "He   
needs to say goodbye."  
  
  
Ash Ketchum leaned back and studied the moon. It was a beautiful night, really, if you edited out the   
burning building and the squad cars. A beautiful night.  
  
He rested his hand on his Vulpix's head. Sorrow coursed through his veins, but he didn't feel hopeless this   
time. It was a sweet, gentle kind of grief, soft and warm. He would be okay.   
  
It hadn't been like Pikachu, where they had been ripped away from each other for one's body to die alone,   
and another's soul to continue while convinced it itself it was dead, too. There was no heart-rending pain   
to leave him in mourning for nearly a decade. Vulpix had given her life for his. She had thought it a fair   
trade to sacrifice herself for him to live. The spark in her almond eyes had faded quietly and easily, with no   
epic fight against death. She had been willing to go.  
  
A tear fell on the fox's coat and froze there as two friends said their good-byes and parted.  
  
  
  
  
  
"A raging fire consumed the Silph Co. main office building out on Route 13 last night.   
  
"Silph Co. is now confirmed as a Team Rocket syndicate involved in illegal research regarding the   
productions of Training Machines and high-rated Pokéballs.   
  
"Last night, Team Rocket broke into the South Vermilion Pokémon Center, stealing the Pokémon stored in   
wait for the Vermilion City Open Pokémon Show to be held next week…"  
  
Misty slouched back on the couch, blowing her hair out of her eyes. Seeing this on the news, it seemed   
almost impossible that she had been involved in some way. She glanced up and smiled as Ash sank onto   
the couch between her and Gary, a bowl of popcorn in his hands.   
  
"Hey, I'm on TV!" Gary crowed happily, grabbing a handful of popcorn and cracking open a can of soda.   
He pointed to the screen, where he stood next to a newscaster.   
  
"Thank you, Sheila," the young, female reporter said. "I'm here with Gary Oak and Ash Ketchum, the two   
young men responsible for the rescue of the stolen Pokémon. What convinced you boys to challenge Team   
Rocket?"  
  
"Oh, I've never been one to back down in the face of adversity." Gary grinned slyly at the reporter,   
throwing as much innuendo into the sentence as possible. The interview continued for a few minutes, with   
Ash barely getting a word in between Gary's flirting.  
  
On the couch, Ash rolled his eyes. "Gary, you're even an ass on TV."  
  
"Maybe, but I'm a sexy ass if there ever was one."  
  
Misty groaned, and Gary leaned forward to shoot a smirk at her. "See? Your girlfriend agrees, Ashy-boy.   
Better be careful I don't steal her away from you."  
  
Ash and Misty blushed violently. Ash punched the other boy in his arm. "Would you cut that out?"  
  
"What?" Gary grinned.  
  
Rolling his eyes again, Ash gestured to the television. "Let's just watch this, okay?"  
  
"Three deaths occurred in this tragic fire," the reporter said. "The remains were identified as those of Mr.   
Giovanni, the owner of Silph Co. and suspected Team Rocket boss, Mr. Butch Kosaburo, a wanted Team   
Rocket member, and those of Mr. James Kojiro, whose family has lived on the Kojiro Black Creek estate   
for fifty-seven years…"  
  
"You know," Misty said, "that was probably the most romantic story I've ever heard, James faking his   
death and giving up all of that money just so he could be with Jessie." She sighed. "I wonder how they're   
doing."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't say that he *faked* his death, per say. It was more of an accident, the way it happened."   
Ash said. "James was just lucky that what's-his-name, that Rocket guy who died? He was lucky that guy   
knocked out a couple of his molars, and that the forensic team found them, otherwise he and Jessie would   
still be hiding from James' bitch of a wife."  
  
The reporter continued. "Gary Oak and Ash Ketchum, as well as Misty Waterflower, rescued the stolen   
Pokémon and escaped unharmed. Oak and Ketchum were wanted by the police as ringleaders of a group   
illegally training Pokémon for battle, but charges against the two men were dropped due to their service to   
the community. The two, along with Miss Waterflower, will be publicly thanked at the televised Vermilion   
Open Pokémon Show next week."  
  
Gary smirked evilly again. "You think they'll give us that reporter as a thank-you present?"  
  
Ash rolled his eyes yet again. "Come on, Gary, she wasn't even that cute."  
  
"You're just saying that because of Misty… oof!" Gary wheezed as Ash plowed him into the ground.  
  
"Dammit, Oak, I'm gonna kill you!"  
  
Now it was Misty's turn to roll her eyes. Boys will be boys, she thought.  
  
The cameras returned to the news desk, and the anchorwoman spoke. "In a related story, a new bill has   
been proposed allowing battle-training of Pokémon after receiving a specialized licence. The bill is   
expected to be met with open arms…"  
  
Misty's jaw dropped slightly, and the two boys paused in their wrestling to stare incredulously at the   
television.   
  
"Did… did they say legalized training?" Gary whispered.  
  
"I think… I think so," Ash whispered back.  
  
The boys exchanged a glance.   
  
"There is a God," Gary said.  
  
  
Jessie threw her arms around James' neck as they watched the newscast from their hotel in New Port   
Haven on Chartreuse Island, an obscure little rock in the Orange Islands. "Wow, we really did it," she   
grinned. "We're really free, aren't we?"  
  
James broke out in a smile. "Yeah. We're really… free." His eyes danced for a moment as he mouthed   
the word to himself. Free.  
  
  
  
  
Ash studied the small box carefully as he turned the paper tag over in his hands. The card read, "For   
courage and determination enough to preserve the finest Pokémon in Kanto, the Pokémon Breeder's   
Society presents Ash Ketchum with this token of thanks." Gary and Misty had identical packages. The   
three boxes had been handed to them as they departed the stage after his and Gary's public pardon and the   
trio's televised thanking.   
  
The three friends now sat in a skybox, watching the rest of the Pokémon show proceed in the arena below.   
It was a plush little room, with thick, comfortable chairs and three televisions broadcasting the happenings   
in the rings, in case they decided that they didn't want to watch for themselves through the wall of windows   
looking out on the arena.  
  
Their minds were not on the show, though.  
  
"Well, who's gonna open theirs first?" Gary asked.   
  
Misty bit her lip. "Let's just open them all at once," she said, eagerly slipping her finger under a fold of the   
wrapping paper. "Come on, I want to see what they gave us."  
  
The paper was torn from the boxes with frightening speed. The containers fell open to reveal a Pokéball   
neatly tucked into a nest of tissue paper, each with a small, engraved silver tag leveled into its surface. Ash   
swallowed hard and shut his eyes.  
  
"You guys call yours out first. I want to wait for a minute," he said quietly. His companions nodded,   
stood, and solemnly held the Pokéballs out in front of them, calling out the Pokémon almost   
simultaneously.  
  
The light from Gary's Pokéball manifested itself into a small, thick, golden-brown Pokémon. It   
materialized suspended in the air, and levitated for a moment before it called "Abra!" and sank to the floor,   
asleep.   
  
Gary studied the tag on the Pokéball. "Ah, it's the Pokémon's registered title engraved here. Mine says   
'Marshall's Alpha Headache'," he said. His eyes widened as he realized what he had read. "Holy shit…   
this is a *Marshall* Abra? This is a six-thousand dollar Pokémon!" He studied the psychic Pokémon with   
respect. "Holy shit," he breathed. "A *Marshall* Abra…" he returned the Pokémon and sank back into his   
chair, stunned.  
  
Misty grinned widely. "Wow, I wonder what I got." A beam of painfully white light swirled into a small,   
round, pink shape. "Ooh, a Jigglypuff!" Misty squealed, dropping to her knees and embracing the little   
balloonish creature.  
  
The Pokémon's eyes bulged slightly. "Puff," it whimpered.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I squish you?" Misty said, releasing the Pokémon. It didn't seem to hold a grudge,   
though, as it jumped into her lap and threw its tiny arms around her waist. Misty visibly melted. "Oh…   
It's. So. Cute!"   
  
"Come on, Misty, tell us what breeder it's from!" Gary urged.  
  
"I don't care!" the girl giggled, hugging the Pokémon again. "Here, you read it." She handed the boy her   
Pokéball and returned to cuddling her new pet.   
  
"Seiverpuff's Let Go the Balloon," he read. "I don't know anything about this breeder, I'll have to ask   
someone, although I'm sure it's a high-quality Pokémon." He turned his gaze to Ash, who was smiling and   
watching Misty fawn over her Jigglypuff. "Hey, Ketchum, the suspense is killing me. What do you have?"  
  
Ash's smile faded slightly. He was unsure if he wanted to call out this Pokémon; he was almost afraid of   
beginning again.  
  
He shook his head mentally. That was the past. Losing Pikachu had been horrible, but after losing   
Vulpix... her willingness to die for him had shown her death in a new light. It was what she had wanted,   
and therefore it was right. As time passed, his memory of his Pokémon would fade slightly, he had   
realized. That's what he was so afraid of—afraid of forgetting what life with Pikachu was like.   
  
He'd also realized that he would always remember how much he had loved that little rat, and the fire-fox,   
too. He would *always* love them, and always carry them with him.  
  
Ash lifted the Pokéball from the box and read the inscription. "Adzap's Sparks Will Fly Again," he read,   
his heart fluttering. He knew of the Breeding center called Adzap, they specialized in electric-type   
Pokémon. He had a sudden sense of premonition… but, no. Adzap bred all *sorts* of electric Pokémon, it   
didn't necessarily mean that it was a…  
  
He steeled himself and pressed the release catch, closing his eyes again.  
  
"Pika… pi?"  
  
His breathing increased, but his eyes stayed closed. This was a dream, it must be a dream.   
  
He felt something climb into his lap, shocking him mildly as its paws touched him. His eyelids parted of   
their own will, revealing two soft brown eyes staring curiously into his own. "Pikapi?"  
  
Ash smiled at the familiar phrase, fighting the waver in his voice. "Yes," he said, a single tear tracing a   
path down his cheek. "I am your Pikapi."  



End file.
